


Undercover Saint

by BloodandGlitter



Category: Saints Row
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Humor, Cyberpunk, Dorkiness, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gun Violence, I Tried, Saints Row: The Third (Freeform), Shameless Smut, Smut, Undercover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-09-17 11:14:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9321008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodandGlitter/pseuds/BloodandGlitter
Summary: Kinzie has a plan to take down the Deckers once and for all. Boss Helena (Lena) merely has to go undercover and befriend their leader, Matt Miller. Sounds simple enough, until Lena's feelings for the hacker start to cloud her judgement.(For all you quick-fix smut seekers: head over to chapter six. Or seven.)





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> I am way too excited about writing this!
> 
> It's set during SRTT and, believe you me, there is some mega smut in the chapters ahead. 
> 
> In this AU, Miller is 18.

Chapter One

 

Kinzie watched as the helicopter appeared from behind a skyscraper, its trademark purple shell glistening in the evening sun. It landed in the adjacent field, stripping the trees of their leaves and deafening her with its whirring blades. It came to a halt and a leather-clad figure, outfit complete with stilettos, marched triumphantly towards her. The Boss removed her helmet and tossed her chestnut hair over her shoulder.

“Thanks Boss. I think we’ve really fucked up the Deckers this time.”

“No problem,” Lena replied, loading her missile launcher into the SUV she had spent the last hour protecting. “We’re meeting the others at the penthouse, so you have five minutes to tell me how brilliant I am.”

Kinzie rolled her eyes and climbed into the passenger seat. The door had been badly damaged by shrapnel, but she wasn’t about to point that out. She sat patiently as the leader of the Saints fumbled with the keys and swore at the steering wheel.

“Boss, are you sure...”

“I can drive a fucking stick!” Lena snapped as she finally got the engine to roar to life. The car shuddered towards the freeway as she flicked through the radio stations, only to be met with monotonous static. “Oh, sorry. Must’ve blown the antenna off.”

The silence was filled by car horns and expletives from other drivers who, surprisingly, did not appreciate being rammed off the road by a half-destroyed Kayak. To Kinzie’s relief, she could start to see the HQ in the distance.

“We’ve made real progress today,” the ex-FBI agent discussed. “A bunch of computers are down, their new ones shipped to China and, well, let’s just say that Miller is gonna stay a virgin a while longer.”

“What the hell did you do his girlfriend?”

“Do you really want to know?”

More awkward silence. They approached the building a little faster than the Boss had anticipated, causing the SUV to crash through the gate, fly over the ramp and stall inches from the front door.

“Thanks for the, er, ride,” Kinzie said, rubbing her neck and exiting the vehicle.

With a nod to the security guards, the women took the elevator up to their penthouse. The doors opened into the sprawling apartment, kitted out with gaudy purple furnishings and gang members in every corner. They made their way over to the lounge where two self-confessed lotharios were being entertained by strippers.

“Hey, how’d it go?” Pierce asked, tactfully removing the scantily-clad lady from his lap.

“Success, as always,” Lena replied, sitting down and swiping her friend’s beer. “I think it’s time to relax now. When have you paid the strippers til?”

“No time for relaxing, we need to start our next Decker mission tonight,” Kinzie interrupted as she snatched the bottle from the Boss’s hand.

“Hey babies, why don’t you go and cool down in the pool,” Zimos muttered to the dancers. He shoved a wad of bills down their G-strings and watched them walk away.

“Why the fuck does it have to be now?” Lena asked.

“It will all become clear,” Kinzie explained, perching on the edge of the couch. “Basically, there are a few files I can’t obtain remotely. Someone needs to impersonate a Decker, go to Miller’s office and access them for me. Once in the room I can talk you through how to download them. But this job is going to be a slow burner; we need to gain Matt’s trust first. Thankfully I’ve got the whole plan sorted.”

“And which unlucky fucker is gonna do this one?”

The three gang members stared awkwardly at their boss.

“Oh Jesus fucking _Christ_ , why me?” Lena moaned.

“Because you’re English,” Kenzie replied.

“Scottish.”

“It doesn’t matter. The point is that you’re best suited for this mission. And besides, Pierce said that, when you were rescuing me, you said their uniform _turns you on_.”

The Boss felt her face heat up.

“Just tell me the plan.”

“Right,” Kinzie rubbed her hands with glee. “You killed a lot of Deckers today. Some of the guys grabbed a body and took her uniform and ID. This is why we need to act tonight, before any of them notice she’s missing.”

“Jeez Kinz, that’s fucking grim.”

“It needs to be done,” Kensington snapped. “You’ll go to Miller and say you’ve got some dirt on the Saints. Tell him that they’re planning a midnight raid on one of his warehouses. He’d be stupid not to investigate. We’re gonna give a few of our guys some guns and armor, and they’ll act like they’re sniffing around the warehouse. The Deckers will be there to take them down, but I’ve briefed them on how to get out safely.”

“Okay, fine. Then what?”

“Matt will be _extremely_ grateful for your information. He’ll invite you back to his office, probably ask you to keep snitching, and eventually we can get hold of his computer. So it may take a few trips.”

“Go and see if this fits you,” Pierce said as he tossed the uniform to his boss. “And we’ve got makeup, hair dye and colored contact lenses too.”

Lena rolled her eyes, grabbed the clothes and made her way to the bedroom.

 

***

 

It took over an hour, including sulking, eye-poking and near asphyxiation from toxic dye fumes, before the Saint started to resemble a Decker. After applying the Gothic lipstick she finally reappeared in the lounge, uncontrollably wobbling on the specialist’s roller-skates.

“...I look like a prostitute.”

“That ain’t a bad thing,” Zimos sang.

The Boss reluctantly looked in the mirror. At 5'9'', the skater skirt just about covered her ass. Her D cup breasts were pouring out of the tiny t-shirt and she couldn’t get the leather jacket done up. Her eyes, previously a piercing green, were now electric blue and looked even more prominent against the jet-black hair. Her legs _did_ looked good in the ripped tights though.

“I haven’t worn skates since I was 10.”

“Well you’re going to have to learn to use them,” Kinzie sighed as they entered the elevator. “Here’s your ID. Your name, if anyone asks, is Jessica Williams. I’ve hacked into the cellphone so you won’t need the code anymore. We’re going to drop you off about 500m from their main office. It won’t take you too long considering you can roll your way there.”

“And what if someone tries to pick me up off the street corner?”

“Just get in the damn car.”

***

 

It was approaching midnight when Lena gave up and rang Kinzie. She had been outside the building for nearly 2 hours and the temperature had dropped considerably - the tiny skirt and jacket weren’t exactly insulating. After 3 rings Kensington picked up the phone.

“Kinzie this is _bullshit_. I’m still outside and the security guy says he hasn’t seen Miller _all day_. What the fuck do I do now?”

“The bastard must have known I was tracking him! Sorry Boss, but the Deckers are constantly rotating their safe houses so I don’t know where you could go. Looks like you’ll have to stay there.”

“I swear to God, if he never shows...”

Lena tailed off as she watched the black and neon-blue SUV pull up. There was a lot of commotion and a tall, dark haired figure was quickly escorted inside the building. She ended the call and skated across the road, flashing her ID at security for the umpteenth time. The young man was now alone, and she chased him down the corridor.

“Excuse me? Excuse me! Mr Miller?”

“May I help you?” Matt asked, turning around. He gazed quizzically at the woman in front of him, who seemed considerably out of breath.

“My name is, er, Jessica. Sorry, I’m just gonna take these skates off.” Lena crouched down and grappled with the laces of her boots. “I’m new at this. I’ve got some info on the Saints that I think the Syndicate needs to know.”

The hacker’s face went scarlet and she realized he could see down her top. She stood up and threw the skates over her shoulder.

“Sure, come upstairs to my office.”

 

***

 

The elevator ride was long and awkward but she was finally in his office. It was as predictable as she’d imagined: neon-blue lights, computers adorned with skulls, an enormous NyteBlayde poster opposite the desk. It was surprisingly warm and inviting, something Lena appreciated after nearly freezing to death outside. She approached the full-length window and admired the view of Steelport at night, its hundreds of flickering lights illuminating the streets below. K12 was humming from the speakers and she sat down on the plush chair opposite his oak desk. This was a _lot_ tidier than her office. Well, hers was more of a bedroom. With a mini-bar.

“I’m very lucky to have my office up here. Sometimes it’s nice to take a break from work and watch the world go by. Would you like some tea?”

“No, thank you.”

Matt turned on one of the computers and thumbed through a file on his shelf. The offer of a hot drink made a nice change from whisky, strippers or ammo.

“Where abouts in Scotland are you from?”

“Just south of Edinburgh. A beautiful city, if you haven’t been before.”

Lena watched him pad around the room, moving books and tidying stray papers from his desk. She caught herself admiring him from behind and blushed. The self-proclaimed CyberGod was tall, maybe a whisker over 6 foot, with slim hips and a small, firm ass accentuated by his pants. She wished she didn’t find their uniform so fucking _hot_.

“I see. Unfortunately no, I have yet to visit,” Matt sat down opposite her, leaning back in his chair. “I’m a typical Londoner; completely oblivious to the rest of the U.K. outside the capital.”

Lena chuckled at his joke, then promptly scolded herself for doing so. He had been the first person in years to ask about her background and not call her English, something Pierce so regularly did.

“So, Jessica, you say you have some information on the Saints? The Syndicate appreciates anything that gang members can pass on to their leaders.”

“Mr Miller, I happen to know that they are planning a raid on one of your... our... warehouses. It will take place about 24 hours from now and I have been able to map out their planned moves. I think we could ambush them and take down a lot of their men. My source wishes to remain anonymous, but I believe this to be invaluable information.”

The undercover Saint approached his desk and laid out her map. Kinzie had decorated it with arrows and stickers, pointing to one of the warehouses in the north west of the city. Lena lent over the desk and talked Matt through the plan, tracing the roads with her newly-polished nails. He would nod and hum in agreement at her suggestions, and furrow his brow at the minute details. He did not interrogate her, but listened intently, hanging on to her every word.  
  
“That’s extremely helpful. Thank you, Jessica.”

“No problem at all, Mr Miller.”

Their gazes met as they looked up from the map simultaneously. Lena stared into his electric-blue eyes and caught her breath. _Shit, he’s really hot_. His black hair was swept over his porcelain skin, framing his cheek bones, his lips full with a hint of their trademark blue. The cologne he was wearing was a marriage of smoked wood and spices, enveloping her senses and leaving her heart crashing against its cage. She fought the urge to pull him over his desk, to rip off the uniform she found so arousing. He left her speechless.

“None of the Deckers have called me ‘Mr Miller’ before. Maybe I should implement it,” he smiled wryly and glanced at her lips, making her more flustered.

“I, I’m so sorry, but I must leave,” Lena stuttered through her increasingly dry mouth. “I hope that everything goes to plan tomorrow.”

Shaking, Lena picked up her skates, accepting that it would be easier to walk home barefoot. She hastily made her way to the door and turned around, and saw that he was watching her walk away.

“I’m sure I’ll see you around,” he grinned.

The Boss ran down the corridors and stairs, pushing past security. She forgot how fucking cold it was outside. Pulling her cell out her jacket, she dialed Kinzie.

“He’s taken the bait. We’ll have to see what happens next.”

Without waiting for an answer, she put the phone down and sprinted to the nearest Saints crib. This was going to be a _lot_ more complicated than she’d previously imagined.


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is about Lena. It's my attempt to build the story up before there's smut wherever you look...

“Oh my _GOD_ , Matt!”

Lena screamed as waves of pleasure rippled through her. She grabbed the hacker’s slim biceps as he continued to pound into her, head buried in her neck and drawing blood as he fought the urge to come.

“Say my name again,” he panted, moving his mouth along her jaw and kissing her hard again. She brushed his sweat-drenched hair out his face, pausing to gaze into those captivating electric-blue eyes. Watching him work so hard was enough for a second tsunami to take control of her body.

“ _Matt Miller!_ ”

“Do you want to be fucked harder?” He asked calmly. She whimpered in agreement.

A moan escaped his lips as he gripped her hair, other arm hooked under the small of her back to grab her waist. His thrusts became deeper and faster, banging the headboard of her bed against the wall.

“Oh God, this is...” Lena gasped then paused, unable to hear herself over the noise.

_Bang, bang, bang_

“I mean, I can’t...”

It was getting louder and more difficult for her to ignore.

_BANG_

_“Boss, get your ass out of bed!”_

Lena woke up to find herself face down on her mattress, covers abandoned on the floor and make-up smeared on the pillow. She had no idea what time it was, and did not appreciate Kinzie’s loud knocking and shouting through her door.

“Gimme a minute!”

It had been nearly a week since the boss of the Saints became an undercover Decker specialist. The plan was to gain their leader’s trust, although she hadn’t envisioned nightly fantasies of fucking his brains out. Yesterday she tried drinking before heading to bed, but this had resulted in a hangover and an explicit dream.

He had yet to contact ‘Jessica’, much to the annoyance of Kinzie. The plan itself had worked: Miller’s minions had greeted a handful of Saints at their warehouse, resulting in a shootout then the safe return of Lena’s men. However, the gang had yet to get their hands on his laptop. Further communication was pivotal to the remainder of the job, although becoming increasingly unlikely as the days went by. Kinzie’s frustrating was growing, mirroring her boss; Lena was desperate to see him again, but not for the right reasons.

“Girl, you really need to quit drinking after midnight,” said Pierce, watching their leader emerge from the master bedroom.

“What’s the problem now?” Lena rubbed her eyes and checked the Decker cellphone again. No missed calls.

“We gonna head down the docks to fuck shit up for the Morn-ing-star,” Zimos sang. “Them girls aren’t gonna rescue them-selves. We needs guns and hel-i-copt-ers.”

“Oh, right. And what about..?”

“The Deckers? I’m starting to give up,” Kinzie interrupted. “Maybe Miller’s figured out it’s a trap, but if that were the case I think we’d have the Syndicate on our asses by now. We need to keep going but it’s got to take a backseat. Go and sort out the Morningstar.”

Lena tried to hide her disappointment.

“Do I still have to wear this stupid wig?”

“Unless you want to keep dying your hair back and forth. But I’m not doing it again; I’ve still got the chemical burns from the first time.”

The Boss sighed and headed to the bathroom. Thirty minutes later she re-appeared in her famous leather jacket, black jeans and boots combo, complete with purple eye-shadow and lashings of mascara and eyeliner. She picked up her beloved rifle, adorned with the fleur-de-lis, which was perched precariously on the coffee table. Snatching the cigarette Pierce was imminently about to light, she threw her aviators on and smirked.

“Let’s go murderin’.”

  
  
***

 

Today was much warmer in Steelport. The wind was calm, the sky clear, the sea still and glittering with the reflection of the sun. The residents smiled and triumphantly threw their jackets over their shoulders, welcoming the turn of the weather and the arrival of spring. The mood of the city had lifted and everyone could feel it. Everyone, it seemed, apart from the two warring gangs at the docks.

“Will you just get the fuck OVER here already!” Lena yelled to Pierce, crouching behind a crate. She could just about hear herself over the heavy gunfire.

The Saints had successfully infiltrated the Morningstar’s cargo ship and were systematically freeing the sex workers from their shipping container prisons. It was an arduous process complicated by the irate rival gang hell-bent on revenge, but Zimos had managed to get half a dozen girls back to shore.

Lena watched a Specialist dash across the promenade deck. She grinned and pumped two bullets into their chest, the body free-falling into the waters below. Shots ricocheted off the metal railings as Pierce dived towards his boss, the deafening roar of his machine gun eliminating more Morningstar crew. She could see the pimp welcoming more women onto the Saints speedboat.

“How have you managed to get blood on your face?” Lena asked her friend, equally disgusted and impressed.

“One of those bastards lunged at me,” he explained as he wiped his cheek. “I don’t think there are as many...”

Pierce stopped when they heard a creek from the other side of the crate. He pressed a finger to his lips as the noise, accompanied by heavy breathing, got closer. Lena was all too familiar with attempted ambushes and was not in the mood for another. She nodded in approval and Pierce jumped over the wooden box to be met with a scream.

“Bitch, did you really think it would be that easy?” He asked, locking his arm round the specialist’s throat. He dragged her round to the Boss, who was eagerly tapping a pistol into the palm of her left hand. She could see the panic in their enemy’s eyes.

“Get off me you fucker!” The woman screamed before spitting in Pierce’s face. Lena almost admired her strength in the face of certain death.

“Aw, now that wasn’t very nice,” the Boss sneered, planting a bullet in her temple. The specialist’s resistance instantly ceased and Pierce dropped the lifeless body, blood splattering onto the deck. She grimaced.

They ran towards the speedboat, throwing themselves between containers to avoid the deadly spray of shrapnel. Lena wasn’t sure who was throwing the grenades; she couldn’t see a brute, but was sure-as-Hell not going to look for one. Being the boss of an infamous street gang was unmistakably an occupational hazard, and she had lost count of the number of near-misses. Right now she needed to get herself and her friend over to that goddamn boat.

“Get yo’ ass on here before they blow us up!” Zimos called over.

Lena’s heart was in her mouth as she jumped over the railings and fired more shots at the Morningstar. She breathed a sigh of relief as Pierce landed alongside her, fired up the ignition and started to manouevre the boat back to land. That was enough adventure for one day.

Watching the Syndicate’s vessel disappear into the distance, Lena realised why that altercation had felt so familiar. Many years ago her lieutenant, her best friend, had said the same to a Ronin bastard that spat in her face. Johnny always had her back, and it was times like this she missed him the most. He wouldn’t have let her obsess over an English hacker 5 years her junior, irresistable uniform or not.

“Girls, this is the leader of the Saints,” the pimp sang over the roar of the engine. “Boss, this is Crystal, Sapphire, Roxy...”

Lena had already tuned out when she noticed vibrations coming from her back pocket. Trembling, she couldn’t reach for that scratched Decker cellphone fast enough. The screen lit up with the phrase she had been desperate to see.

_One new message._

 


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena can't wait to see the leader of the Deckers again, even if it is in disguise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A weirdly long chapter for me (methinks it's double the size of the last one). Oh well. Enjoy!
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated. Even if it's "omg you suck, stop writing this crap" !

Lena could barely contain her excitement as she headed back to the Saints HQ. Her voice was hoarse, her clothes torn, but she had that all-important text message from _him_. The elevator pinged and the doors slid open into the penthouse, where Kinzie was sat on the couch, computer glued to her lap. She jumped as her boss bounded towards her.

“Kinzie, Kinzie!”

“How did it go with the girls? Did you...”

“It was fine,” Lena interrupted. “ _Look_.”

Tossing the cellphone to the ex-FBI agent, the Boss threw herself onto the adjacent seat. She realised her gleeful attitude and Cheshire Cat grin were painfully obvious to the crew, but nonchalance wasn’t exactly in her vocabulary.

“ _Hey. How are you_ ,” Kinzie read from the screen.

Silence.

“Jeez Boss, some groundbreaking stuff there,” she continued, rolling her eyes and passing the phone back. “The Syndicate must be on their knees.”

Lena scowled and hurtfully clutched the cell to her chest. She had been waiting a week for any contact, as had Kinzie, so she’d be damned if she couldn’t get excited about a text message. Even if it was only four words long.

“But we’re back in the game! I’ll arrange to meet with him. Oh lucky me, I get to wear those colored contact lenses again. Hopefully this time it won’t end in a trip to the ER,” she said, glaring at Pierce.

“Don’t blame me ‘cause Nobody Loves Me get their stock from some dodgy place in Taiwan!” He replied defensively.

“I’ll see what he’s up to. I mean, it can’t be much, we haven’t seen the Deckers in a while, what with the Morningstar being up in our grill, but Miller may very well have something up his sleeve...” Lena rambled, failing to control her increasingly-pressured speech. She mentally glued her trap shut; the last thing she needed was to rouse Kensington’s suspicions.

More awkward silence.

“Y’know what?” Kinzie sighed. “I’m going to leave this to you, Boss. I’ll continue the hacking remotely whilst you get hold of the laptop. And Pierce... Eyes are precious, yeah? You only get two of them. A blind boss would make this job _so_ much harder.”

Pierce shot her a withering look as she left the lounge. Lena, ignoring the put-down, counted to ten in her head and switched the cellphone back on.

_I’m fine thx. You?_

***

Dusk had ascended on the city the Saints now called home. The rush-hour traffic had died but the streets were still bustling with tired businessmen and working girls starting their shifts. Across the street, Lena watched the Deckers’ headquarters light up neon blue, a stark contrast against the warm, amber hue of the flickering street-lamps. People were moving about in the offices above, many wearing the same uniform as her. It took several attempts just to pluck up the courage to cross the road.

This was the second time in a fortnight that Lena had stood opposite the gang’s building. For her, the first time had felt so easy; she waited for Miller, strode confidently into his office and divulged the false information. The spanner in the works had been realizing how fucking hot he was. His eyes, those cheekbones... _that. fucking. smile._ Just the thought of it caused her stomach to knot.

She tried to remember how old Kinzie had said he was. Eighteen? Definitely legal. Does he feel the same way? Without a doubt, at least in her dreams. Those goddamn dreams that were getting more explicit every night - except yesterday when she dreamt she was getting a kitten. She likes kittens.

_Focus!_

Lena took a step back and froze. She had their conversation fully mapped out in her head only 30 minutes ago, but now could barely remember how to formulate sentences.

_Hi, it’s Lena._

Shit, no. Start again.

_Hi, it’s Jessica._

“Fucking hell!” The Boss cursed under her breath. Was it really possible that she, the leader of the Third Street Saints, the badass that shot _Dane fucking Vogel_ out a corporate tower window, was nervous?

Apparently, yes.

Lena held her breath as she marched towards the building and past security. The lobby was immaculate, with marble ceiling-to-floor, Decker skulls wherever you looked, and more computers than people. The receptionist didn’t look up as she gingerly approached the main desk.

“May I help you?” The disinterested specialist asked, eyes still glued to her monitor.

“I’m here to see Mr Miller. I have an appointment with him at eight,” Lena replied. Looking at her watch, she noticed it was five past. Is Matt strict on time-keeping? She would have been on time if she hadn’t stood outside like a moron for an eternity.  
The receptionist quirked an eyebrow.

“That’s unusual for him; normally his team would contact you. What’s your name?”

“Jessica Williams.”

Lena watched as she ferociously typed away on her keyboard. If this isn’t ‘normal’ for him, is this meeting special? Maybe he had some new tea imported, fancy shit from the Highlands or something. He could tell her about it whilst she unzipped his pants.

“You may go up now,” the receptionist said, forcing a smile. The Boss realized she had drifted off, and probably looked like she had suffered a seizure.

“Er, thanks,” she mumbled, heading towards the elevator as quickly as possible.

Lena would have been lying if she said she wasn’t happy - nay, fucking _ecstatic_ \- when the hacker finally contacted her. They exchanged pleasantries and he thanked her for the invaluable ‘tip off’ about the Saints, before asking to meet up again. Running through their chat in her head once more, she looked at the phone to re-read his last message.

_Looking forward to it ;)_

What the hell was that meant to mean? Was he trying to flirt with her? Did he even mean to send a winky face? Having accidentally sent one too many suggestive texts to Pierce, she could relate to communication-based mishaps. Matt seemed more confident through the medium of technology but, to her, that was part of the appeal. In contrast, Lena once shot a microwave after it wouldn’t stop beeping. She still insists that Johnny told her to.

Time seemed to slow down as she waited to reach Miller’s office on the top floor. The music in the elevator was surprisingly upbeat for a gang of cyber-masterminds with an aversion to the sun. The lift opened into a short corridor with one oak door at the opposite end. She had been here before, and she knew what to do.

Just. Stay. Calm.

Lena knocked three times before opening the door. The office was in as immaculate condition as before, although the NyteBlayde posters seemed to be reproducing. No music was playing this time and the lights were dimmer, giving the room a peaceful ambiance she could only dream of recreating at her HQ. Warmed spices continued to hug the air and her eyes fell to a pale figure, brow furrowed as he poured over paperwork at his desk. Brushing the raven hair out his eyes, Matt looked up and met her gaze.

“Hi, Jessica.”

Those eyes again. So brilliantly blue against his alabaster skin; like icy pools she desperately wanted to dive in and explore. She felt exposed as she studied his beautiful eyes and delicate face, as if her soul were laid bare in front of them. Her beaten soul, torn to pieces by war, grief, heartache. Lena wanted nothing more than for him to embrace her, to soothe her being and reassure that everything will be fine. Tonight, however, Matt looked too tired and withdrawn.

“H... How are you?” She mumbled, perching on the navy couch adjacent to the window.

“Could be better,” the hacker replied. “I wanted to thank you in person for the information on the Saints.”

“How did the showdown go?”

Lena waited for a reply, intrigued by the official Decker stance on the faux-altercation. He was too preoccupied and had obviously stopped listening, instead choosing to rummage through a cabinet.

“...Mr Miller?”

“Sorry, I’m in a rush tonight. So if you’ll please excuse me...”

“No time for tea?” Lena asked playfully, only to be met with a scowl.

“I’m being serious, Jessica.”

She tried not to look hurt, watching as he hastily tidied away papers and slammed his briefcase shut. He was acting increasingly irritable but she couldn’t put her finger on why.

Then she noticed the bruising.

“Whoa, hang on!” She snapped, grabbing his arm as he headed for the door. Before he could protest, she yanked his collar down and inspected the purple finger marks across his neck.

“What the hell are you doing?” Matt roared, pulling away from her grip. His normally ice-blue eyes were filled with heated rage.

“Who did that to you?”

“I am your BOSS and you will treat me with respect!”

Lena recoiled in shock. She was used to being the leader, and would pride herself on caring for her gang. If Pierce, Shaundi, _anyone,_ had returned with a wound, the perpetrator was a dead man walking. She had been on autopilot, and could understand why an ignorant Matt was furious. But she couldn’t switch her feelings off.

“I, I’m so sorry.”

“You can show yourself out,” he hissed, marching towards the door and slamming it behind him.

Lena slumped back into the chair, scarlet face cradled in her hands. She had fucked up _big time_. Kinzie would probably be screaming right now - _you’re alone in his office, take the goddamn computer!_ \- but right now she didn’t care. How the hell was she going to correct this? Miller wasn’t going to touch her with a barge-pole now. She could already smell the restraining order.

  
_You stupid, STUPID woman._

What she hadn’t anticipated, however, was the entire building suddenly erupting into complete darkness. It was eerily quiet, and she looked round in disbelief; every light, computer, _anything_ electrical, had switched itself off. Confused and unable to see a thing, she didn’t know whether to run or stay put. A distinct cry of _bollocks!_ could be heard in the corridor.

Lena assumed the creaking door was Matt slinking back into the room. There was some rustling, and a small lamp instantly illuminated the corner of the office. He stood sheepishly in the shadows.

“May I ask, well... What the fuck is going on?”

“The building is on lockdown.” Matt sighed, reluctantly placing his coat back on the stand it occupied only 60 seconds ago.

“That still doesn’t explain much.”

“If we get some intelligence that the Syndicate is in immediate danger, our buildings go on lockdown. It was Killbane’s stupid idea. How the hell would shutting down the power help us? The Saints must know where we’re based; a blacked-out building isn’t going to solve that. All it means is that I can’t get home until he decides we’re safe. Normally the idiot reverses his decision within 30 minutes.”

 _It doesn’t stop a Saint from getting into your stupid building,_ Lena thought. She discretely removed her cell from her pocket, setting up a new message to Pierce.

_What the fuck have you just done??_

Matt threw his bag on the floor and sat back at his desk. With no music on the floors below, an awkward silence seeped into the room.

 _Nothing. Why?_ Came the reply from her lieutenant.

Lena shuffled in her seat. If her gang hadn’t done anything, this was almost definitely a false alarm. And that would mean the power would be back on soon. Until then, she accepted her fate of being stuck in his office with no talking. It would give her time to reflect on what a fucking idiot she’d been.

“I’m sorry for snapping,” Matt muttered, interrupting her train of thought.

“No reason to apologise. I overstepped the mark.”

“Because you care.” He held her gaze again. The lamp gently illuminated his face, casting shadows down his cheekbones. It was a miracle she hadn’t melted into a puddle on the crimson carpet.

“May I at least have a look? There may be some broken skin.”

The hacker paused before moving onto the couch alongside her. Lena could feel her pulse bounding underneath her skin as she carefully adjusted his collar and inspected the wound. The lighting wasn’t ideal but it didn’t look as bad as she’d feared; angry purple bruises, reddened fingernail marks coated with dry blood. It looked far worse against his delicate snow-white complexion but wouldn’t scar. Someone must’ve grabbed him by the neck, but who? The nature of the injury piqued her interest.

“Who..?” Lena struggled to find her words. He looked scared and vulnerable tonight, and the thought of someone hurting him made her blood boil.

“It’s just that, well, it’s Killbane. He’s a prick.”

The Saint stared open-mouthed in disbelief. Matt was refusing to make eye contact, looking unnecessarily ashamed about his confession.

“Why would he do that to you?” She whispered, fighting back the tears burning her eyes.

“The Morningstar lost some girls to the Saints. Apparently that was my fault.”

Suddenly aware of her emotions, Lena came to the realisation that her feelings extended beyond a simple crush. Her gang would _always_ come first, but she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if he became collateral damage.

How the hell did she get herself into this mess?

“I, erm, I don’t think it needs medical attention,” she mumbled, still in a daze.

“I didn’t want to burden you of all people with this.” Matt’s eyes widened in shock, like his mouth had just left his brain in disarray. “I mean... I mean... I was so grateful for your visit before, you seemed so kind... You must be busy yourself...”

Lena froze, mouth half-open. How do you respond to that? The awkward silence crept back between them. She just needed to say something.

_Anything._

After a painful few seconds, she managed a strange, brief, very unattractive rasping sound. The hacker stared back at her, puzzled.

_Classy. Well done._

“Please don’t freak out. The cyber-world doesn’t prepare you for talking to girls in real life,” he chuckled, skin now a pale shade of pink.

Lena watched as he studied her face. She found him painfully cute, his geeky awkwardness only adding to the allure. She had been around the block once or twice before, but he was so different to any of the other guys she’d been with. For a start, he was able to put a sentence together.

“You must need to dye your hair,” he smiled. “Those freckles on your nose; I’d guess your natural color is a lot fairer than black.”

Lena felt her breath quickening as she longingly looked back at him. He had moved closer to her on the couch, their knees almost touching. Pulse buzzing in her fingertips, her gaze lingered at his lips, desperate to taste him. The addictive smell of his spiced cologne left her head spinning. Matt carefully leaned in and she mirrored his movement, closing her eyes to savor the feeling of his warm breath on her face, his hair against her cheek. Time slowed down as their lips brushed, moments from melting together.

This was it.

“LOCKDOWN IS OFFICIALLY OVER!” A cheery voice bellowed over the Tannoy.

Every lamp in the office erupted with light simultaneously, computers booted up with a harsh whirring noise. The pair jumped, snapping away from each other as a reflex to the sudden attack on their senses. Lena cursed and Matt rubbed his eyes in shock.

_So. Fucking. CLOSE._

“Shit. Sorry,” the hacker said, unable to open his eyes to the harsh lighting. “Another reason to hate Killbane.”

Lena could barely hear him over the sound of her pulse thumping against her eardrum. The moment was ruined; she might as well go home. Once her bedroom door was shut she could scream and throw as much as she wanted.

“I’m going to head off,” she sighed, scooping up her bag and coat.

“Wait!” Matt cried. With his eyes shut he couldn’t locate where she was in the room. “The Syndicate are having a party next Saturday at the Three Count. Please come. Maybe you could act as my bodyguard; I don’t appreciate being grabbed by the neck.”

Lena smiled, not that he could see it.

“I’ll message you.”

She left the office, making every attempt not to slam the door in a huff. Once safely away from the room, she threw her bag down the corridor in frustration.

“Fucking shitting _BOLLOCKS_!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the inconsistency between USA and UK English; I'm trying to write in the former (as Steelport is in America), but finding it a *tad* difficult.


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being the leader of a gang ain't all it's cracked up to be.

“Matty...”

That was it; the one word that caused his insides to twist, his lungs contorted to the point of suffocation. All he could do was wince and hope the remainder of the sentence wasn’t _I’m going to fucking kill you_. 

“...Are we all set for tonight?” 

The hacker breathed a sigh of relief and thanked the cyber deities that he didn’t need to rush home and change his pants. 

“Everything is in order,” he replied, feigning confidence. 

He just wanted this meeting to be over as quickly as possible. Killbane always insisted they met in the dingy basement of the casino, for a reason unbeknownst to the Decker. He could feel the mold infesting his chest with every minute he spent down there. 

“We’re expecting approximately 100 guests to arrive at 8pm. There have been no issues raised by catering or the bar staff,” a disinterested woman stated. 

Matt felt desperately sorry for Viola. She and her sister, Kiki, had previously managed The Morningstar with no issues whatsoever. Killbane had taken it upon himself to become the new leader, and in a fit of rage snapped Kiki’s neck in front of her terrified twin. The surviving DeWynter sister had obviously not been the same since. 

“Viola, won’t you cheer up? This evening is extremely important to the Syndicate,” Killbane cooed. His gravelly voice sent a chill down Miller’s spine. 

“Apologies if I’m not in the mood to celebrate after you murdered my twin sister.” 

Matt watched the wrestler’s jaw tense. 

_Shit, he is going to kill her too?_

“I’m going to let that slide, considering how helpful you’ve been with organising this networking opportunity.” 

_Networking opportunity._

The hacker had forgotten that this was totally _not_ a party. Parties, as Killbane had drummed into him, were for children eating cake and ice-cream. This was an evening with the Syndicate’s associates, for them to establish confidence in the new leader’s abilities. 

Matt Miller was only 18, and far more comfortable in front of a keyboard than a group of businessmen and politicians. He had tried to excuse himself from attending the nightmare of an evening, but the bruises on his neck hinted that Killbane wasn’t too happy about that. He thought about gluing himself to Viola, but she’d only flit between teasing him and flying off in a grief-induced rage. In fact, he was surprised she was coming at all; her recent behavior left him wondering if she was about to defect. Maybe to the Saints, but who would want to get involved with those low-life nobodies? 

Tonight was going to be painful, it was going to drag. But at least he had one thing to look forward to. 

“...And we can _definitely_ bring guests?” 

“Yes Matt, you’ve literally asked that a thousand times,” Viola sighed, head in hands. 

“You have been rather fixated on that one, minute detail.” Killbane turned his attention to Miller, voice laced with intrigue. He watched the teenager’s face change from deathly pale to flushed. 

“Oh my God, do you have a girlfriend?!” Viola sprung to life. 

“I do _not_ have to justify myself to-” 

“Shut up, you’re shit at lying. Who is she?” 

Matt couldn’t decide how to respond. Instead he spluttered, aware that his face was now approaching scarlet territory. 

“She’s not my girlfriend!” 

_Brilliant work Matt. That’s not going to get you teased at all._

Viola tipped her head back and roared with laughter. 

“You’re so cute! Seriously though, good luck kid. After your online girlfriend - well, we won’t talk about that - I thought you’d lock yourself away in your bedroom again.” She playfully punched him in the arm. 

He turned to an unsettling and quiet Killbane. His expression was so bloody hard to read with that stupid mask on. 

“I hope that this _lady friend_ doesn’t detract from more pressing matters.”

Matt had learned to detect the wrestler’s thinly-veiled threats a mile off. 

“Please don’t worry. She’s honestly not my girlfriend. Or my friend,” he stuttered. “Actually, I’m going to be quiet now.” 

A confused Viola cocked an eyebrow. 

“Because, Matty-”

_Oh shit, here we go again._

“-the last thing the Deckers, the Syndicate, _I_ need, is your being distracted. Do you understand what I’m saying?” 

Matt knew that wasn’t really a question. He nodded in agreement, certain that he resembled a deer in headlights. 

“Of course, Killbane.”

The younger man flinched as the Luchadore leader patted him on the back. That appeared to be the end of the meeting, and he was grateful no chairs had been flying round the room on this occasion. He waited for Killbane to leave the room, his oversized shadow disappearing down the hallway. 

“ _Please_ don’t take the piss. I’m actually nervous.” 

“I’m happy for you. Honest.” Viola reassured. “I think you need a girl in your life. But I’m not sure you know how to talk to women. Or do you?” 

Matt grimaced in response. 

“Looks like I’ve got some work to do,” she sighed. “One: calling someone a n00b isn’t endearing, or flirty. You just look like an ass.”

“Jeez, I’m not that-”

“Shush!” Viola put a finger to her lips. “Two: don’t come across overly nerdy. If you invite her into your user-net, you certainly won’t be getting into hers, if you know what I mean.” 

“But-”

“...Four: Don’t come across desperate. If you start declaring your unwavering love to her, you _will_ scare her off.” 

Matt started to panic. Are women usually this complicated? He hadn’t even kissed her yet. 

Oh _God,_ that near-kiss. He had been so nervous but couldn’t keep away from her. Her freckles, her accent, her legs that went on for days... If he thought about her too much, he started to question why she even seemed interested in him. She must be a few years older, and he had _no_ experience with girls. Unless you class typing “holding hands” into the user-net chat box as first base. 

Maybe she liked his shyness? She seemed _way_ out of league, but was so damn approachable. Not like the other Specialists, who seemed to snigger at him when he walked past. He was, by his own declaration, a cyber God; hacking, computers and his gang had been his priority since he became the leader 2 years ago. He’d love a girlfriend, but hadn’t quite got round to talking to girls in real life. 

Shit... What if she only liked him because he was the head of the Deckers?

“Matthew!” Viola snapped, clapping her hands together. “It’s fine day-dreaming about ripping her clothes off, but if you don’t even know what a bra looks like, we have a problem.”  


“Can we at least talk about this somewhere else? I think I saw a rat in the corner.” 

She rolled her eyes. 

“ _Fine_ , but first thing I’m doing when we get back is reapplying your awful nail varnish.”

***

Shaundi lazily draped herself across the mauve couch, cellphone in one hand, beer in the other. She loved the penthouse HQ, especially at night; lights from neighboring skyscrapers illuminated the apartment, and on clear nights she could watch the stars. For her, there was something so peaceful about being away from the chaos on the streets. A couple of months ago the building had belonged to the Syndicate, before Pierce concocted a takeover plan and the Boss took a liking to the swimming pool. The Saints had come a long way from the grubby basement of Purgatory, that’s for sure. 

“Kinz, y’know you can take an evening off, right?” 

Kensington barely looked up over her laptop, fingers flying over the keyboard at lightning speed. 

“Sorry for wanting to work at bringing the Syndicate down.” 

Shaundi rolled her eyes and continued to scroll through her messages. Since their move to Steelport and the furore over the bridge explosion, her agent was rarely in contact. _I Wanna Sleep with Shaundi_ had great ratings before the ill-fated robbery back in Stilwater. 

“You look annoyed tonight. Why don’t you go back to your place? Your _inner sanctum_ or whatever it’s called.” 

“Because I like being around you guys. Even if I have to put up with porn in the living room,” Kinzie gestured at the T.V. and looked as if she had a mouth full of vomit. 

Shaundi looked equally disgusted as she glanced up and saw a woman pleasuring herself with an array of kitchen utensils. 

“Sorry about that. I’ve learned to tune it out,” she replied, throwing a cushion at a Saint sitting opposite her. “Oi, bonehead! That’s disgusting, turn it off!” 

The unconvincing moans were swapped for K12 and Kinzie relaxed, still typing away furiously on her computer. 

“So... What’s going on in Steelport tonight?” 

“I’m a bit concerned, actually. I’m currently monitoring several public places - parks and whatnot. Everything’s pretty quiet except for this one area of Yearwood.” She signaled for Shaundi to move next to her, pointing to a cluster of red dots on the screen. 

“What are those red things?”

“They’re Syndicate gang members. It’s impossible to know for certain without being there, but due to the location I suspect they’re Luchadores.” 

“I thought we had cleared them out-?” 

“Exactly,” Kinzie interrupted, looking her colleague in the eye for the first time tonight. “I don’t know what they’ve got planned, but I don’t like it.” 

The pair fell silent, minds racing with possibilities and worse-case scenarios. Were they planning on taking Yearwood back? Unlikely; it wouldn’t exactly be at the top of their list of priorities. 

“Have you told Boss?” 

“Not yet. She’s in a weird mood today, almost manic. And she’s been in the bedroom for the last two hours.” 

“I’ll fix that.” 

Shaundi jumped off the couch, approached the door and thumped three times. After thirty seconds she tried again. 

“Boss! Get your ass out here now!” 

She watched as the door opened and a dressed-up Lena appeared from the shadows. She was wearing a high necked dress with a thigh-high split - clinging to every curve of her figure - that was deep purple in color and matched her lipstick. Her newly dyed black hair was in loose waves cascading round her shoulders. Shaundi’s eyes fell on her friend’s shimmering diamond tear-drop earrings, which matched the bracelet on her left wrist.

“Oh my God. You look... Amazing.”

“I know.” Lena smirked, brushing past her to get to the kitchen. Her clicking stilettos caught Kinzie’s attention. 

“Boss, have you got a date or something?” 

“Kinda,” she replied, raiding the refrigerator for beer. “But first I’m gonna need some Dutch courage.” 

“What time are you leaving?” 

The Boss checked her cellphone. _Seven thirty._

“Soon. Why, what’s up?” 

“I don’t like the look of some gang activity on my monitor. It’s in Yearwood and probably the Luchadores.” 

Lena quirked an eyebrow and made her way over to the couch. Some red and purple dots were dancing on the screen - she wasn’t sure what it meant, but it couldn’t be _too_ bad. 

“Just send some more of our guys over there,” she said, snapping her fingers at the Saints now standing in the corner. “You, kitchen porno boy! Head over to Yearwood and check out what’s going on.”

She had been looking forward to the Syndicate’s party for a week. Matt had messaged her with all the details, and she knew she needed to be at the coporate tower for 8pm _sharp_. A bunch of ‘roided-out failed wrestlers weren’t going to stand in her way. 

“So, like I said... I’m going out. Don’t ask where, but I’ll have my cell on me.” 

The gangs loved to wind each other up but, with the absence of their leaders, they rarely attacked in fear of retaliation. The Luchadores wouldn’t dare start a fight without Killbane’s orders, unless they wanted to lose their jobs _and_ their testicles. That revolting character would be schmoozing his clients in thirty minutes; scrapping with her gang over a park and a Rim Jobs would cause unnecessary angst on an important evening. 

“Uh, Boss?”

Lena - at this point touching distance from the elevator - flew round to glare at her friends, jaw clenched. 

“What?” 

“I hate to tell you, but... They’ve started shooting at our guys.”

Kinzie never minced her words, and grimaced as she imagined having her head ripped off. In her defense, she didn’t ask for this to happen. Lena’s knuckles whitened as she tightened the grip on her purse. 

“Are you fucking _kidding_ me?” 

“We’ve gotta get down there,” Shaundi ordered to the other men, ushering them towards the helipad. “Sorry, Boss.” 

“Jesus H. Why? Why tonight?” 

“Look, if I could change it, I would,” Kinzie snapped back. “But I’ve hacked into the CCTV - it’s definitely them and they’ve got a brute using a Saint for hammer throw practice. I know you’re clearly not in the mood and you’d rather be having dinner with... Actually, who is it?” 

“None of your damn business,” Lena barked. “Stay here and keep an eye out. Someone get Oleg on the phone, I want 2 SUVs in addition to the chopper. Lemme at least changed my shoes.” 

Marching back towards her bedroom with her blood boiling, she slipped the cellphone out her pocket. 

_Sorry, may be a bit late._

***

“I want these bastards dead in the next thirty minutes!” 

The red dots on Kinzie’s laptop definitely underestimated the Saints’ predicament. On arrival they were met with a dozen Luchadores and a pair of specialists armed with GL20s. 

“You really think we can clean this up that quickly?” Shaundi asked, checking her SMG for ammo. 

“I think we’re gonna have to, cos I am _not_ missing this evening.” 

The clock was approaching 8pm and Lena reckoned she could turn up a _bit_ late. No reply from Matt yet, but he was probably helping set up. 

They abandoned the helicopter on the road and sprinted towards the park. The gunshots had left the streets deserted, and the cops weren’t exactly going to give them a parking ticket. The wooden gazebo, now complete with bullet holes, was being used by their rivals as a stand-off point. One ran across the grass only to be met with a headshot from Shaundi, collapsing into the pond. 

“See, this’ll be a piece of cake,” Lena shouted whilst being simultaneously deafened and blinded by grenades. “I thought Kinzie said there’s a brute around, but-” 

Within seconds she was dealt a blow to the back of the head, causing her to fly several feet and crash face-first into the pavement. Rolling onto her back she stared up at the sky, vision blurry and ears ringing. One of her earrings had been ripped out and she could taste blood in the back on her throat. 

“I think my nose is broken,” she mumbled, half-aware that none of the Saints could hear her. She took several deep breaths and pulled herself to sitting, hissing at the sting from her grazed palms. She could barely see a thing and felt the unmistakable trickle from her nostril to her top lip.

“Oh my God, Boss!” Came a cry from a purple clad figure who crouched next to her. “That brute just hit you round the head. Don’t worry, we got this and we’ll get you home.” 

“Where the fuck did he come from?” Lena slurred. If she squinted she could see Shaundi dodging the clone’s flamethrower, pumping ineffective bullets into his shoulder. “Can you get me a tissue? I need to be somewhere but I think I’m bleeding.” 

She tried to stand up despite the other Saint’s protest. She was able to make out individual buildings before they promptly merged into a moving swirl. After falling backwards and nearly smacking her head for the second time, a pair of large, warm hands caught her shoulders. 

“Boss, we need to get you back,” Oleg said. “I’ll take care of this brute with my trusty machine gun.” 

“But I need to be-”

“I don’t care,” he interrupted. “You’re no use semi-unconscious and I need to look at your nose.” 

He scooped her up and ran towards the helicopter, engine now roaring to life. 

“Don’t worry, Boss, Imma take good care of you,” the Saint on-board said. 

He sounded muffled to her, almost as if they were underwater. She felt the vibrations of Oleg slamming the door and slowly shut her eyes, letting her surroundings fade to black. 

 

***

_“Boss, can you hear me?”_

Lena slowly opened her eyes to gazed up at the unfamiliar ceiling. She was lying on a gurney surrounded by blue curtains, her gown ripped to shreds. The beeping of monitors was almost serene compared to the gunfire and screaming at the park earlier. Kinzie sat beside her, brow furrowed.

“Whoa, where the hell are we?” 

“We’re at the hospital. After you passed out the guys bought you here. The staff know not to contact the cops.” 

“Oh Christ. Kinz, what’s the time?” She sat bolt upright and her head started to spin. “I really _really_ need to get going.”

“You’ve been out cold for the last of hours. It’s nearly midnight.”

Lena’s blood ran cold as she processed the news. 

“I’ve... I’ve missed it?” 

“Missed what? Your date-thing?” 

The Boss threw her head back against the pillow in disbelief. Fumbling with the phone in her jacket pocket, her heart sank when she glanced at the screen.

_Five missed calls_. 

“The doctors have said your nose isn’t broken and your CT head was fine. We can get you home.” 

“I don’t fucking care,” Lena snapped, fighting back tears. “I’ve just missed a really fucking important evening thanks to those bastards.” 

The cubicle went quiet. Kinzie narrowed her eyes as she made a mental connection.

“I found out the Syndicate had a party tonight,” the ex-FBI agent explained. “I think the Luchadores were acting as a distraction to stop us from ruining it. Were you meant to go?”

Lena chewed her lip, unsure how to answer. Kensington would _freak out_ if she found out her boss and Matt had a thing going on. The longer she stayed quiet, the more suspicious her friend grew.

“No! Well, yes. I was meant to go.” 

“But why would you keep that from me? We need to get Miller on our side. Unless you were...” Kinzie jumped out her seat, and looked seconds away from vomiting in disgust. “OH MY GOD. You said it was a date... Are you fucking _Matt Miller_?!” 

“Keep your voice down!” Lena whispered, voice drenched with panic.

“You remember he tried to _kill me_ , right?”

“We’re not seeing each other!” 

“Then why would you-?” 

“Because like you said, we need to get him _on our side_. I thought that, what with him being a virgin loser, I could flirt my way to a quicker result.” 

Lena held her breath and watched Kenzie, mentally begging that she would buy the lie. Neither of them could have anticipated any of this. He was meant to be a socially awkward nerd who lived through a computer; instead she’d learned he was charming, funny, and _so_ cute. Yeah, he was a bit awkward, but she adored that. 

“Okay, fine.” 

_Does that mean she believes me or not?_

Kinzie sat on the edge of the gurney and stared her boss in the eye. 

“Any romantic feelings on your part could seriously endanger your life, my life, and everyone else in the Saints. Please remember that before you start playing with fire.”

“Like I said; this is strictly business.” 

Lena was certain that Kinzie had sussed, but she wasn’t going to blink first. All she wanted to do right now was drink, cry, and beg for Matt’s forgiveness. The thought of him standing there alone, waiting for her to walk through the door... She couldn’t believe she’d let him down. No matter what it took, he _was_ going to forgive her... Once she had thought of an excuse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any typos, I haven't had time to proof-read.


	5. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things _still_ aren't going to plan for our protagonist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major thanks to Mayamelissa for coming up with Lena's excuse. I was at serious risk of being stuck on that for days.

“I’m sorry. Something happened and I was on my way to you... I’m sorry I couldn’t ring you... I want to explain it to your face. Please ring me back. I’m so so sorry.” 

That was the third voicemail she’d left Matt that day. She wasn’t sure if he was avoiding her or simply hadn’t picked up his phone - although considering he was a teenager _and_ a technology geek, she feared it was most likely the former. 

“Have you spoken to your _friend_ yet?” Kinzie asked sarcastically, appearing round the corner from the kitchen. 

“Shit. You’re still here?!” 

Lena thought she had cleared everyone from the apartment in what Pierce had called a _hissy fit_. The wall-shaking music and dumb conversations of her lieutenants were driving her mad, especially as she just wanted to lie on the couch and curse at herself. She hadn’t realized the ex-FBI agent was still hanging around, being judgmental and drinking her tea. 

“Why, you need some privacy?” Kinzie probed, not breaking eye contact as she sipped from a mug. 

“I don’t know what you’re expecting me to say.” Lena tried to feign ignorance, which was becoming increasingly hard; Kensington was the cleverest person she knew, and a _hell_ of a lot smarter than herself. She could feel the cracks in her facade widening with every loaded question. “And besides, you need the guy’s laptop. It’s in your interest for me to stay on the right side of him.” 

“In _our_ interest,” she corrected. 

“So you understand that I need to rectify this ridiculous situation?” 

Kinzie paused, reluctant to agree in fear of making her boss even _more_ smug. She knew there was something odd about the budding relationship, whatever it was - however for the time being, it was merely speculation. 

“Whatever. I’m going home.” 

“Thank fuck for that,” Lena muttered under her breath. 

“I’m not deaf you know!” 

Kinzie disappeared into the lift and the Boss felt herself immediately relax. She usually loved having her lieutenants around, especially witnessing the random arguments between Pierce and Shaundi. Things had been _very_ different since she was whacked round the head by a flamethrower-wielding brute, knocking her unconscious and resulting in her no-show at the Syndicate party. _Matt Miller_ had been waiting for her and she still managed to fuck it up, and now he wasn’t talking to her. She replayed the fight with the Luchadores over and over in her mind; if she hadn’t let her guard down, if she hadn’t been so pre-occupied about seeing him, she would’ve realized the brute was standing behind her. Even Shaundi managed to dodge him. 

To her, the Saints didn’t deserve a leader that only half pays attention, too focused on playing _he likes me, he likes me not_ with a teenager. The men in her life usually disappear as quickly as Pierce’s ability to hold a note - but why does Matt feel so different?

Not that it mattered; he wasn’t going to forgive her any time soon. She didn’t blame him for being angry. She couldn’t fend off the thoughts of him waiting for her, calling her phone, realizing she wasn’t coming... Picturing his disappointment left her stomach in knots. She had spent the night curled in a ball on her bed, cries muffled by the pillow clutched to her chest. The deep cut to her occiput was excruciating, the searing pain spreading like a wildfire down her neck and to the back of her eyes, blinding her with agony. She ignored the painkillers in her bag because she wanted to suffer - to try anything that proved a distraction from her mental torture. 

Lena sank further into the couch as fatigue starting to take control of her body. She shut her eyes momentarily, savoring the silence. The unmistakable _ping_ of the elevator doors made her jump, and she groaned as a pair of stilettos clicked towards her. 

“Look what I’ve got!” Shaundi sang, proudly swinging a bottle of tequila over her head. She lept over the back of the couch, planting herself next to her half-asleep friend. 

“Seriously? I’ve only just got rid of Kinzie. I need a nap.” 

“Stop sulking, I’ve come to cheer you up!” She exclaimed, grimacing as she examined her boss’s face. “I was going to ask you how your head is, but it’s pretty obvious.” 

It had been less than 24 hours since the incident and the bruises were still developing. Lena had 2 black eyes, a deep graze that traveled from her temple to her lower jaw and a cut on her bottom lip. Although her nose wasn’t broken, regular ice packs were limiting the swelling. 

“Ha fucking ha.” 

“Some doctor once told me that alcohol is the cure for everything. At least, I think that’s what he said. Or maybe it was ‘drinking doesn’t solve your problems’,” Shaundi trailed off. “Either way, we’re drinking this tequila. I know we don’t have any shot glasses... Or salt and lemon for that matter... But we’ve got each other and we can drink from this bottle.” 

“And they say we’re not classy.” Lena snatched the bottle, eagerly gulping down a shot-sized mouthful. She normally _hated_ tequila and would only do slammers once already wasted. The drink singed her throat, making her eyes water. “At least this’ll help me sleep better tonight.” 

“That’s my girl!” 

The Boss hissed as a trickle of alcohol escaped her mouth, causing the cut on her lip to sting. She dabbed it with a tissue and realized it had started to bleed again. 

“I can’t remember the last time I was injured. Although it was probably when that bastard Julius blew me up,” she reminisced bitterly. “I wanted those Luchadores finished so I could go on a date. I was so sloppy that I didn’t realize a fucking eight-foot tall brute was behind me. And I’ve ended up with no date and a bust-up face.” She swallowed another mouthful of tequila and cursed the taste. 

“Who were you gonna go out with?”

“Doesn’t matter.” 

Shaundi tilted her head, carefully watching the expression on her boss’s face. 

“As long as I’ve known you, you’ve not been secretive about _anything_. Me and Pierce always know when you’re seeing someone, mainly 'cause you start throwing things around and bitching about them to anyone who’ll listen. So it’s a guy you don’t want us to know about.” 

“Seriously, it doesn’t matter-” 

“Oh my _God_ , I’ve got it!”

Lena’s body tensed up, desperate not to hear that her lieutenant had cracked the mystery. 

“You’re seeing a cop, aren’t you?” Shaundi concluded, leaning back on the couch and downing a victory sip of tequila. “It’s the only logical explanation. Or at least, the only logical explanation with this much booze in my system.” 

“What can I say? You’ve got me!” The Boss shrugged her shoulders in an attempt to feign defeat. Realistically it was the only option she had. “Now, what _I_ want to know is whether you’re gonna put Josh Birk out his misery...” 

“Nonono, we are _not_ talking about that tool tonight.” She snapped in response. “Are you gonna see him again?” 

Lena squirmed, realizing she had backed herself into a conversational corner. She was an appalling liar, and didn’t have the best memory, but now would have to remember every minute ‘detail’ she divulged to her friend. 

“Only if _you_ come on a double date with-”

“Oh my fucking GOD I am NOT gonna date that asshole!” Shaundi barked, visibly becoming irate. The Saints leader loved winding her up. “Look... I’m here because you’re my friend and I care about you. You’ve been insufferable since last night and you were bouncing off the walls before we had to go fight the Luchadores. You’re an arrogant bastard but not when it comes to guys. I don’t want you to throw this away then regret it like you did with Johnny.” 

_Johnny._

The name that caused her heart to throw itself against her chest. Her best friend, her right-hand man, the love of her life. 

Lena had been infatuated with him since they first met. He lived in the moment, did what felt right and couldn’t give a damn about the consequences. Gat fascinated her at a time when she was merely _Playa_ and too terrified to talk. She had a tendency to overthink and worry over unnecessary detail, and desperately wanted to be more like him. If it hadn’t been for Johnny she would not be the woman she is today. 

It wasn’t long before her desire to emulate transformed into conflicting, confusing, gut-wrenching emotions. She would over-analyse glances, replay his passing comments over and over in her mind. Lena was able to hide her jealousy of Aisha, molding it into a strong friendship after their ordeal with the Vice Kings. She was still in love with Johnny, there was no denying that, but he was happy and that made _her_ happy. 

When they lost Aisha... Part of him died that day. The cocky, outrageous, almost cartoonish man Lena adored became a shadow of his former self; a bitter shell mourning the only woman he thought understood him, oblivious to the feelings of the boss standing aside him. All she could do was watch and declare revenge on the bastards that murdered her friend. 

About a year after Aisha’s death, the two friends shared a kiss that was to be burned onto Lena’s lips for the rest of her life. She could still remember the day, where they were, and the humiliating rejection that followed. He was still grieving but the alcohol in her bloodstream lead to a leap into the unknown. Her dreams came to life; his lips were soft, hands rugged as they traced down her spine, his chest warm as she pulled herself closer, desperate for him to take her to bed. Within seconds he broke away and Lena’s reflex was to blame the vodka for making a move on her friend. Gat merely laughed it off. She decided to re-group and think carefully, with the help of Shaundi, about how to let Johnny know she was in love with him. 

Years later she was still choosing her words when he died, alone, over the skies of Steelport.

“I miss him so much,” Lena whispered, staring towards the distance. 

“We all do. I’ve beaten myself up so many times about abandoning him on that fucking plane. But I’m not bringing him up so we can feel bad about ourselves.” Shaundi wiped away a tear from her boss’s cheek. “I’m saying that I want you to see this guy again, even if he is a cop. You can’t spend your life thinking _what if_ with him too. You never know, a Saint might blow his head off tomorrow.” 

Lena wasn’t used to her friend acting caring _and_ making a joke. It certainly made a change from the perma-pissed look she had been rocking recently. But it all made sense. She had lost Johnny, and that was going to haunt her until the day she died. If she lost Matt too... She couldn’t bare to think. He gave her a reason to get up in the morning, a hope after the devastation left by Gat’s death. It was still a mess, granted, as she and Miller were on borrowed time; a relationship between the two leaders could not end well, but she’d be damned if she didn’t give it a go... Even if she was lying about her true identity. 

“For once in your life, you’re right,” Lena said. “I’ve got to go and see, er, him.” 

On standing up she realized the room was spinning, and she was _pretty_ sure there weren’t two Shaundis on the couch to begin with. 

“Whoa, whoa. You are far too drunk to do anything tonight,” Shaundi slurred, grabbing her friend by the wrist. “Sit back down and you can sort this out tomorrow. And I’ll try and put some make-up on your fucked up face.”

Lena punched her friend in the arm and swallowed another swig of tequila.

“Shit. How did I get myself into such a mess?”

***

“How did I get myself into such a mess?” Matt whined, knees curled to his chest. His mouth was pressed against the fabric of his pants and muffled his voice, much to the relief of Viola. He had been lying in the fetal position on his office couch for hours, staring at the door. She assumed his brain had accepted that the world was now to be viewed on its side. 

“Matty, you’re a teenage boy. These things are bound to happen,” Killbane sighed as he paced the room, sure he was starting to repeat himself. “But I think this is for the best. I know that’s not what you want to hear, but the Syndicate will appreciate your undivided attention from now on.” 

Viola crouched down until she was at Matt’s eye level. She brushed the soft raven locks out his eyes.

“I’m so sorry, kid. You can be a pain in the ass sometimes, but I know how much you liked her. We’ll find you another girl.”

“I thought we had something,” he mumbled, head now buried in his knees to try and black out the agony. “I’m so bad around girls but she was different.” 

“Maybe I can have a word with her?” 

“I think you’re missing the point,” Killbane placed a hand on her shoulder. “We do _not_ need him to be distracted.” 

“You’re wrong,” Viola snapped, raising her voice. She stood up to face the Luchadore leader and clenched her fists. “He’s a fucking human, not some mindless computer slave incapable of experiencing emotions. I’m so fucking fed up with how you treat us!” 

Matt looked up to see Killbane puff out his chest and take a step closer to the DeWynter sister. Mere inches separated them, with Viola swallowed in his shadow as he looked down on her with fury. His breathing became deeper and he growled, raising his fist to the level of her jaw, but she barely flinched.

“Go on then. If you dare,” she uttered, narrowing her eyes.

“Jesus Christ, Killbane!” The hacker shrieked, certain he was about to witness the death of the other twin. This was literally the _last_ thing he needed right now. 

Five loud thumps at the door took them all off guard. The wrestler stepped back and Matt took a gasp of air, realizing he had been holding his breath as he waited for the punches to start flying. 

“I’ll get that, then,” Viola smirked, taking herself out of the wrestler’s shadow. 

She opened the heavy oak doors to a bedraggled Decker Specialist.

“I’m here to see Matt,” Lena said as she fumbled with the buckle on her jacket. 

“Who are you? And what the hell happened to your face?” 

She was painfully aware that Shaundi had _not_ done a good job with the make-up. Her panda eyes were still visible through the foundation and her cheeks were checkered with bruises and badly-applied blusher. To hide the fact she was going to see Miller, she had to throw the uniform on whilst swerving through traffic to get to his office. 

“Who is it?” Killbane called. He took one look at Lena and decided to join the women in the hallway, closing the door behind him. 

This was the first time she had seen the rival gang leaders in the flesh. Viola was prettier than their stock photos had let on; they were about the same height, but her olive skin was a stark contrast to the Boss’s alabaster complexion. Her deep chocolate hair was pulled back, showcasing her delicate facial features. 

Killbane was just as creepy as Lena had imagined. Standing opposite him engulfed in the shadow of his unsettling stature, a chill ran down her spine. She felt uneasy staring at the green and red mask, unable to read his mood. He was a predator that could pounce at any moment. 

“My name is Jessica Williams and, like I said, I am here to see Matt. I need to explain why I wasn’t at the Syndicate party.” 

Viola opened her mouth but Killbane interrupted, determined to lead the conversation. 

“And why was that? I assume it’s related to your injuries?” He probed. 

“There was an altercation between the Saints and the Luchadores. I went to investigate and a brute hit me over the head. I had to go to the hospital.” 

_Technically that’s the truth._

“Why did you try to get involved? Sweetheart, you’re a _Decker_. We pay you to think. If I want a job done, I will go to my men first,” he cooed. Lena tried not to cringe at his condensending attitude. “You could lose your job over this.” 

“Please, no!” She begged, panic in her voice rising. If they sacked _Jessica_ and she didn’t complete Kinzie’s mission, she’d be a dead woman walking. “I didn’t want to get involved. I literally just walked towards them and, before I knew it, I was waking up on a hospital gurney.” 

“That sounds reasonable-” 

“Viola, _shush_ ,” Killbane snapped, turning his attention back to the Specialist. “We’ll deal with this as a warning. We will pass on your regards to Matty but I don’t think he wants to see you right now. Go home and get some rest. We will get him to call you.” 

Lena narrowed her eyes. She didn’t believe a word that came out of the slimy wrestler’s mouth but her hand was forced. There was _no_ way she was getting past him without a few broken bones. She watched Viola, who was awkwardly shuffling on the spot, gaze averted to the carpet. 

“...Fine. Thank you.” She replied without a trace of gratuity in her voice. She stood outside the door for a few more seconds but Killbane was not going to budge. All she could do was go home and pray for a miracle that the message _would_ be passed on. If it didn’t, she’d try again - she wasn’t giving up on Matt. 

The pair watched the Specialist disappear down the corridor and enter the elevator. 

“Don’t you _dare_ tell him she was here,” Killbane hissed. He grabbed Viola by her sweater, fingers firmly gripped round the base of her neck and shoulders. The color instantly drained from her face. “Go in there and make something up. We need to take the Saints down and we will _not_ succeed if he’s too busy fucking one of his slutty Specialists.”

He let go and she collapsed against the door, gasping for breath. Turning his back to her he reached for his cellphone and dialed a number from memory. 

“Hi, it’s me. Listen: there’s a Decker girl called Jessica Williams. Yeah, that one. She’s been behaving inappropriately so I want her ID and cellphone deactivated with _immediate_ effect.”


	6. Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who is still reading. I love writing this and reading all your awesome comments.

_Yep, still a shitty building._

Lena had always been repulsed by the dilapidated appearance of the Burns Hills Reactors. Previously, whilst kitted out as a Decker Specialist she had managed to hang around the plush Syndicate offices, until the I.D. badge had bizarrely stopped granting her access. Swearing at the bodyguards did little to rectify the situation, and she was left staring at the building and scratching her head. Kinzie recommended heading over to Burns Hill to try the badge there instead, which she agreed to, albeit very reluctantly. 

So here she was, standing on the periphery of the grottiest location in Steelport.

“What do I do if it doesn’t work here either?” She asked, squinting as the sun peered between the grimy cooling towers. 

“You’ll have to come back and we’ll figure something out,” Kinzie replied from the other end of the phone.

“You know a lot about the Deckers – how come their crib is so disgusting?”

“No idea. I’d guess that either they’re too engrossed in their computers to notice, or they’re trying to recreate their parents’ basements.” 

Lena sniggered. “I’m gonna go before anyone starts listening to our conversation. See you later.” 

“Remember, Boss: be inconspicuous.”

Inconspicuous. Piece of cake, right? At least, she was _pretty_ sure what that word meant. 

The place was usually crawling with Deckers, but for some unknown reason it was eerily quiet. It was hot today and Lena could feel the cheap leather of her jacket sticking to her back. Maybe the wannabe vampires had all retreated inside to avoid melting in the heat? 

She retrieved the Specialist cell-phone from her pocket and bashed the keys for the umpteenth time that day. Still no signal. The blasted thing had stopped working the evening she went to see Matt and that wrestler prick had shooed her away. Kinzie blamed software malfunction initially, but with the I.D. ceasing to work, it was looking all too suspicious. Did Matt block the technology in a sulk or was Killbane stirring up trouble? 

Not that the reason mattered right now; she was still locked out. Swiping the card by the entrance resulted in an angry red light glaring back at her, the glass doors refusing to budge in defiance. She wiped the badge on her sleeve, smoothed out the bending plastic, flipped it round, then back again, up and down… The green light never appeared. 

“Bollocks,” Lena hissed, grabbing the brass handles and rattling the doors. Her frustration was starting to boil over - particularly with the sun beating down on her neck - and she was getting ever closer to putting her fist through the glass. 

She kicked it and stood back, staring up at the tower. Trying to yank open an enormous locked door in sweltering heat was _hard_ , and she realized how unfit she’d become as she starting panting. 

“Why won’t you stupid fucking twatty door open?” 

A sudden silence erupted around the grounds; birds stopped singing, leaves became motionless among the trees, swiftly followed by a chill that crept down Lena’s spine. She looked at the ground and found herself engulfed in someone’s shadow – someone standing inches away from her back with two other figures in tow. 

“May we help you, Ma’am?” 

Lena slowly turned around and came face-to-face with three oversized, menacing, leather mask wearing Luchadore soldiers. They didn’t move, and instead stood deathly still, towering over the Saint with their arms folded, biceps painfully jutting out against taut skin. 

“I can’t get into my building,” she stuttered.

“What’s your name?” One wrestler asked, taking a step closer. He snatched the I.D. from her limp hand before she could protest.

That was definitely a loaded question, considering he now had hold of her badge. Lena swallowed thickly when she realized she had nowhere to run; they had backed her into a corner and had her surrounded.

“Why, can’t you read?”

_That’s not going to antagonize them at all._

She shrieked as a muscular arm locked round her neck, fingers pulling at her hair as she fought to breathe against her crushed windpipe. Her heart was thumping and she helplessly grabbed at the Luchadore, only to be lifted off the ground, his forearm pressing into her jaw. He squeezed Lena’s neck and she felt the blood pooling in her head, pressure building within the backs of her eyes. She was moments away from passing out. Where the hell had that fourth soldier come from? 

“Killbane wants to have a word with you, love,” he spat in her ear. 

The Luchadores roared at the sight in front of them: a young woman, trapped in the hands of a steroid filled wrestler, legs flailing, feet kicking dust as she desperately fought his grasp. 

Lena shivered when the cold metal of a pistol dug into her cheek. She was choking, her head spinning from asphyxiation. All she could do was shut her eyes and pray he’d let go. 

What the hell did Killbane want with her now? 

“Oi, what the _fuck_ are you doing!” A voice roared. She couldn’t locate it, her surroundings now blurring into a dark, hazy mess. “Get off her _now!_ ”

*** 

Shaundi resented the character she was now so often portrayed as: bitter, moody, erratic, a far cry from her previous free-loving, constantly stoned self. It was when the Saints took control of Stilwater that she realized she was a liability, and it was only a matter of time before another vengeful ex-lover tried to take her out. Without saying a word to anyone, not even the Boss, she marched herself into the city to overhaul everything she had started to detest about herself. The dreads were gone, as was the chin stud that so often bugged the hell out of her. She binned the drug paraphernalia - mainly broken lightbulbs - that littered her apartment and proudly declared that, from now on, the only way was up for the husky voiced college student.

The Saints started to gather momentum and she found herself involuntarily thrust into the spotlight. The Boss found her an agent and before she could say _hey, I once had a boyfriend that..._ she landed her own reality dating show. The idea of finishing her degree had flown out the window as quickly as Dane Vogel out the Ultor Tower; she was a _pop icon_ now. Things went steeply downhill when Johnny was murdered and she fell into a perpetual cycle of blame, anger, and drinking. She would stay up at night wondering what could’ve been if they hadn’t robbed the Syndicate’s bank, if they’d stayed in Stilwater, retained their popularity, and the Boss and Johnny had got their ‘happy ever after’. But none of that mattered now. He was dead and the Saints were stuck in a city they barely knew. She vowed to keep fighting - for Gat if no-one else - but the gang was now being blamed for the destroyed Steelport bridge. _Fucking bastard Killbane_

She was never going to give up. The permanent rage etched across her face was because she was a fighter and she wouldn’t rest until the entire ensemble of the Syndicate and their associates were lying cold in the ground. 

Her heated desire was _not_ to be wasted on insignificant rows about shit that doesn’t matter. 

“For the last time Pierce, we do not need a new fucking jingle!”

_”Sorry_ for wanting to freshen up the brand!”

Shaundi’s head fell into her hands. The Boss had previously dragged her to counselling, and now was the perfect time to trial _counting away the anger._ ”One... Two... Ten.” she mumbled before erupting again. “In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re currently despised by half the city, and the other half are trying to kill us! So no, I don’t think Saints fucking Flow needs a new song!” 

“Why you always gotta be so snappy? Kinzie, what do you think?” Pierce turned his attention to the ex-FBI agent in a vague attempt to accumulate support. In reality she was barely listening.

“I’ve said it before: if people think you’re gay, just ignore them.” 

“That’s not what I asked!” 

Kensington glanced up from the screen she had been staring intently at for the last 3 hours. In her defense, he was often complaining about women not taking him seriously. 

“Something about your singing?”

“No.”

“...That hat you’re always wearing?”

“No!”

Finding this bizarre conversation extremely tedious, Shaundi could feel the reigns on her poorly controlled anger starting to snap. “We are _not_ recording another jingle. End of story!”

A painful silence eclipsed the penthouse lounge. It made her sad; she and Pierce had been through a lot together, having joined the gang simultaneously, but Johnny’s death had left a lead weight hanging over their shoulders. She craved a return to normality - or at least the Saints version of normality. Kinzie seemed oblivious to the room’s ambiance and buried her head back in her laptop. 

“Hey Kinz, what have you got going on?” Shaundi asked, desperate to interrupt the quietness. She jumped at the unexpectedly enthusiastic response.

“Oh my _God_ , it’s totally hilarious! Come and have a look.” She gestured for the older lieutenants to sit alongside her on the couch. In doing so, they found themselves staring at a live infra-red feed of an apartment, not too dissimilar from the one they were sitting in. It was empty. 

“What are we looking at..?”

“Matt Miller’s apartment,” Kinzie proudly declared. “I’ve been trying to bug his flat and office for months. He destroyed my reputation and it cost me my job - now it’s _my_ turn to dig up dirt on _him_. Although I’m not expecting much considering no one ever goes up there. Maybe just him jacking off to a NyteBlayde repeat.”

“How the hell did you manage that?” Shaundi asked, trying to mentally block-out the unwelcome image of the cyber nerd giving himself a low-five. 

“A wad of cash and a disloyal maid. The one thing I’ve learned in this business is that everyone has a price. I’ve got cameras in places most people wouldn’t even think to look.”

“Huh.” Pierce seemed impressed.

“Oh my fucking God!” Shaundi leapt off the couch in panic. “ _Please_ don’t say you’ve bugged my bedroom!”

Kenzie shuffled in her seat, certain that _yes but don’t worry, I turn it off when you’re fucking someone_ wasn’t the answer she wanted to hear. She watched as the infamous fury unfolded on the reality star’s face, almost in pain-inducing slow motion. The Saints ringtone then suddenly erupted in her back pocket. Clambering for the cell before the anger transcended Shaundi’s mental restraint, she realized she had literally been saved by the bell. 

“Hey Oleg, what’s up!” She stuttered, trying to distance herself from the other female lieutenant. She opened the glass doors and was met by untypical Steelport sunshine, rays glistening on the swimming pool. 

“Good afternoon Kinzie! How are you? I detect stress in the tone of your voice.” The Russian giant replied.

“I had to get away from Shaundi. She still scares the shit out of me.”

“She certainly has a temper, that one.”

Kinzie paused, taking a minute to savor the feeling of warmth on her skin. Although she was grateful to the Saints for saving her life, babysitting the Boss and the other gang members was becoming slightly tedious. Meeting Oleg was the one positive thing that had emerged from her ordeal with the Deckers and that shitty punk Miller; they connected on an intellectual level and she felt comfortable in his company, talking about their dealings with the Syndicate and their hopes for the future. He had become a calming influence on her. 

“I was going to ask you what you’re up to this evening-”she heard an explosion on the other end of the phone, followed by a booming laugh and an autotuned voice that could only belong to one person. 

“ _Looks like there'll be no more puss-eh for you!_ ” She heard Zimos sing. 

“-what the hell was that?” Kinzie asked. 

“We’ve found ourselves dealing with a few Morningstar crew. My pimp friend here gave me his missile launcher and... Let’s just say the problem is being taken care of.” Oleg was now having to shout over the gunfire, but did not seem remotely phased. “I was going to ask you the same thing. I have recorded a documentary on Nicholas II, the last Tsar of Russia. I would be honored if you could join me as I curse the fools that are my ancestors.” 

“I would love to.”

“Fantastic. How about we meet at your warehouse at 8pm? I will bring along the DVD.”

“Perfect,” Kinzie smiled. She loved how he understood her. Her inner sanctum was far from homely, but she loved getting away from the Saints - and he knew that. An evening learning about Russian history was the perfect tonic after a day of Shaundi and Pierce. “I will see you later. Take care, Oleg.”

She ended the call and rejoiced that she had something to look forward to. They could sit together on her couch, chat, learn and... 

Kinzie blushed. She realized why, but it was far easier to blame the beating sun on her freckled complexion. She went back inside and was greeted with more arguing between the lieutenants.

***

“Thank you, again.” 

Lena’s lips welcomed the sugary tea. She swilled the warm drink round her mouth and eagerly gulped down half the cup, swiftly followed by the cookie on the plate in front of her. 

“I wasn’t exactly going to leave you there.” 

Matt sat on the adjacent couch, hugging the mug in his hands. He had whisked her up to his penthouse after ordering the Luchadores away, and taken it upon himself to look after her. “How are you feeling now?”

“I’m fine, really,” she replied. If he knew her true identity, he’d know those encounters occurred every day ending in a ‘y’. 

“And what did they say to you?” 

“That Killbane wanted to talk to me. I don’t know why, unless it was about…” 

Lena paused and realised he had no idea that she’d gone to see him. In fact, he still didn’t know why she had done a no-show at the Syndicate gathering in the first place. It should have been painfully awkward between them but he had been too busy saving her ass.

Matt’s eyes locked on hers. Those bright blue eyes, studying her through stray locks of dark hair. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

_Yes._

She sighed. “The night of your party… There was a fight between the Luchadores and the Saints. I went over to investigate and a brute hit me round the head. I ended up in hospital.” She pointed at the graze, now pale pink, that ran down the side of her face. “I went to explain this to you, ‘cause you weren’t answering my calls, but Killbane wouldn’t let me into your office. Next thing I know my phone doesn’t work, my card is blocked and his handymen are trying to kill me.” 

He stared into his tea, brow furrowed, as he tried to comprehend her story. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea. If I had, I’d…”

“I know.” Without thinking, Lena placed her hand on his knee. She looked down in horror, as if her body had surged ahead without consulting her brain. A bolt of electricity shot through her and she recoiled, the contact lingering on her fingertips. “I’m _so_ sorry. I shouldn’t be, er, touching you like that.” 

She cringed and wished she’d just left her hand there. But she didn’t want to apologize; she longed to touch him, to hold him, to explore every part of his body over and over again. 

Matt appeared lost for words. 

“No need to say sorry. I’m definitely not the right person to dictate social etiquette,” he chuckled. 

_He is SO fucking adorable._

“Maybe I should leave? I have a habit of fucking up our meetings.” 

Lena stood up and adjusted her jacket, feeling a distinct pang of deja-vu. Every time it was the same – they’d talk, she’d stumble, she’d walk away. It was becoming painfully repetitive; she wasn’t sure how much more her heart could take.

What she could not have predicted, however, was a hand that grabbed her wrist as she turned around. 

“Life is too short to play games.” Matt pulled her back towards him. He looked terrified, unsure of what was happening or how to proceed – but he was certain of one thing. He took a deep breath and gazed into her eyes, fighting not to stutter as he confessed his feelings to the woman standing in front of him. “I’m so bad at this, but… Well… I like you. A lot.”

That was all she needed to hear. 

The room melted away into nothingness and all she could see was Matt. Before she was able to take another breath their bodies crashed together, Lena’s trembling lips parting as he pressed his mouth to hers, gliding his hands across her jaw and into her hair. He kissed her gently, as if handling a delicate flower, carefully unwrapping its snow-white petals whilst drinking in its beauty. Every muscle in her body softened and she melted into him, wrapping her arms tightly round his neck. She closed her eyes and her other senses burst into life; the smell of his spiced cologne, the softness of his skin, the taste of _him_ \- all leaving her head spinning as she fought to savor the moment. 

Lena pulled him towards her and the backs of her knees hit the couch, causing them both to fall backwards onto the cushions. She giggled as she lay underneath him, their noses brushed together and strands of his hair tickling her cheeks. She swept it back and found herself lost in the powder-blue eyes that captivated her all those weeks ago. His face was flushed but he was still smiling. He kissed her again, however this time it was hard and clumsy, his inexperience fuelling her desire. She could sense his nerves as she glided her tongue over his bottom lip and gently bit down, testing his response. Matt broke away and the angst was evident in his voice. 

“I’ve never done this before. Like, _any_ of this before.”

_Shit, Kinzie was right._

“That’s fine,” she smiled, running her fingers down his cheekbones and across his jaw. “If you don’t feel comfortable, or ready, that’s okay.”

He paused and gazed into his lover’s eyes. “I want to. I want _you_.”

Lena grabbed his tie and pulled him back to her mouth. As she lay between his arms she could feel him uncontrollably shaking. 

“Let me help you,” she whispered. 

She took hold of his hands and slowly guided them down her neck, past her collar bones and to her breasts. Matt whimpered as she pulled her shirt up, allowing him to explore and roll her nipples between his fingers and thumb. He had never seen them in real life before but was sure hers were _perfect:_ round and firm, her areolae pale pink against her porcelain skin. He leaned forward to kiss her chest and Lena felt him harden against her hip. 

“Keep going,” she encouraged. 

His mouth found her nipple and he gently sucked, causing her to groan and guide his hands down past her navel and towards the minuscule Decker skirt. He paused and looked up at her with his piercing blue eyes, almost unsure as to the next step. 

“You-you sure you’re happy?” 

She answered by tilting his chin upwards and kissing him hard again. His hand wandered past the skirt and between her legs, his groan lost in her mouth when he realized she wasn’t wearing underwear. She was hot and dripping already. 

Matt stretched the already ruined fish-net tights and parted her smooth folds, holding his breath as he took the plunge and slid his fingers inside her. She was wet and _so_ tight; everything he had imagined when alone and fantasizing in his bedroom. He moved in and out, gradually increasing the speed and watched her response - she threw her head back and arched her spine in pleasure. Smiling to himself, he took it as encouragement and his thumb found the small nub above where his fingers lay. He _thought_ that was the clitoris - he had seen enough videos in his time - and the moan that escaped her lips proved he was correct. He teased the surrounding skin, alternating between strokes and pumping his fingers into her, her wetness trickling down his wrist. To Matt, they were pure drops of ecstasy. He ran his tongue over his palm - she tasted sweet, and he wanted to remember that forever. 

Lena grinned and briefly sat up to discard his shirt and belt. She was fumbling, partly because she was too busy enjoying the view of the painfully stretched fabric of his pants. He didn’t protest as she pulled them down, freeing his thick erection. She took the opportunity to say the one phrase she’d uttered over and over again in her dreams. 

“ _Fuck me, Matt Miller_.” 

Screw leaving the UK, forming a gang, becoming the head of the Deckers - _this_ was the greatest moment of his life. A beautiful woman underneath him, her body tuned to his, wearing the uniform he found so arousing. He had spent many nights thinking about ripping the skirt off a stunning Specialist, but this was better than anything he could have conjured up on the user-net. 

Matt pressed his body against hers and gave her a lingering kiss, tongue slowly and deliberately exploring her mouth. The sensitive head of his cock rubbed against her abdomen and he felt a pearlescent bead of precum ooze onto her skin. Right now he felt like a pressure cooker; one wrong move and he’d explode, and it would be over before it even began. 

He peeled himself away from her burning skin and sat up, hitching her hips upwards and increasing the angle between her and the couch. At first he sank his polished nails into her sides, before Lena took his hand and entwined his fingers with her own, smiling tenderly. He realized there and then how much she had come to mean to him. This was _exactly_ how he wanted his first time to be. 

With his nerves and hesitation dissipating Matt slid into her, enthusiasm resulting in bottoming-out before he was quite ready to take that step. The feeling of being inside her, warm and tight and closing against his cock... It was a million times better than his fingers, and he thought _that_ was the best feeling in the world. The sensation was sublime and left him lightheaded, as if his heart had skipped a thousand beats and his muscles had abandoned him. He collapsed on top of her, his outstretched hands catching him seconds before his head collided with her face. They were now practically sandwiched together and he was still inside her. 

“So-sorry about that.” 

Lena giggled and he realized he _wanted_ to be this close to her. Sex was about intimacy and he wanted to celebrate his adoration, worship her body and scream it from the rooftops. Was he... Could he be..?

She caught him off-guard by tilting her hips, burying him deeper inside to hit her most sensitive spot. The warm throbbing spread through her groin as she rocked against him to help build a rhythm. 

“Please don’t worry,” she whispered, voice almost ethereal. She ran her fingers up his arms to his shoulders, nails gliding over his delicate skin, causing him to shiver with delight. Finally she hooked her hands round his neck and tangled her fingers in his raven hair to keep him close. 

Matt’s gaze never averted from her beautiful face, carefully observing every blissful sigh, smile, even the little nose-crinkles that left his heart doing somersaults. He could count the freckles that dusted her nose and cheeks. His breath ghosted over her jaw as he buried his face in the crook of her neck, teasing her with burning nibbles and kisses as he continued to thrust into her. 

His skin was on fire and Lena could feel the sweat matting his hair through her fingers. He had picked up the pace and his head continued to push harder onto her hotspot. It started as a quiver in the depths of her abdomen, before rising and consuming her chest, shooting bolts of white-hot electricity down to her extremities. Every muscle tightened then erupted into spasm, releasing an all-consuming tidal wave of euphoria. She didn’t ride it; she was entirely submerged, drowning, and pulling him under the surface to join her. 

Matt could barely hold on as he watched his lover writhe under his touch, her walls clamping around him. He came with her, channeling the pulsating pleasure surrounding his cock into the hardest, most emotional kiss he was capable of giving. Lena’s moan vibrated on his lips as he continued to drive himself into her, relishing every remaining moment of their intimacy.  


He finally collapsed alongside her on the couch, sweat sticking their bodies together, as they panted in unison in a vague attempt to catch their breath. Lena had been worried he’d be too nervous, what with it being his first time and everything. But the connection they shared, the harmonious synchronicity of their bodies... He understood her, and it was like nothing she’d experienced before. _And_ he made her come. 

She burrowed under his arm and closed her eyes, listening to the rise and fall of his chest. Matt laid back and stared at the lighting on the ceiling, still in a state of shock. Had he really just lost his virginity to a beautiful woman who currently had the, er, _product of their lovemaking_ dripping down her buttocks? He’d be pinching himself for quite a while. 

“Well played,” Lena grinned. She planted another kiss on his lips, tongue lingering in his mouth. “There aren’t many guys that can make their girl orgasm, especially not on their first time.” 

To be honest, Matt _was_ rather proud of that feat. But right now he wanted her there, close, on his chest, his arm wrapped tightly round her and he had no intention of ever letting go. Just listening to her breathing was utterly exhilarating. 

“My ass keeps sticking to the couch,” she giggled. “Maybe we could go somewhere more... comfortable?” She gestured towards the open-plan bedroom above their heads, with its kingsized bed just over the railings. It was at a perfect level to survey the skyline of Steelport through the floor-length windows - when they weren’t fucking. 

Matt kissed the top of her head, his cock twitching at the thought of a second round. Something was telling him they weren’t leaving the apartment any time soon. 

“Sure. Ladies first...”

*** 

“For God’s sake!” 

Kinzie slammed her coffee mug on the glass table. She had literally just opened her laptop to check the live feed, and hadn’t expected to met with _that_. They were definitely... Oh fuck. Just trying to comprehend what she’d seen made her want to vomit. 

“What is that?” Oleg leaned over to look at the screen. He studied the picture before recoiling in horror. “Is that… Helena? Is she with..? Oh. Oh dear.” 

“I fucking _knew_ it!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Giggity.


	7. Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small chapter (chapterette?!) filled with smutty goodness while I work out where this story is heading.

The fading moon, now a waning crescent, sat on a blanket of darkness in the midnight sky. Although on its deathbed, it fought to illuminate the city below with its pale glow, its swansong imminent. A sea of glimmering stars among wisps of cloud came out to mourn – for the moon would die, or so it seemed. But buried in the shadows, there it will lie, ready to shine once more. It may be hidden, seemingly gone forever, but it never left.

Lena often found herself alone and thinking about Johnny. She and Shaundi didn’t talk about him much anymore, both agreeing that dredging up the past repeatedly was only causing more heartache. For weeks she grappled with denial; he was Johnny freaking _Gat_ , the guy previously shot in the knee, who survived a sword in his gut and escaped _death row_. He could survive anything… Except Philippe Loren. They never saw his body, fuelling Lena’s obsession that he wasn’t gone, he hadn’t died, and he was waiting in the wings to return to her. But he _was_ gone. It had been six months and she was finally coming to terms with her loss.

It was time to move on.

“Enjoying the view, Jess?”

Matt walked past his swimming pool, sitting beside her on the steps leading down to the helipad. He was only wearing a t-shirt and boxers; it was a warm night, far too humid for anything more. Lena wasn’t complaining.

She pulled herself back into the present. “Sorry, I was just thinking about a friend I lost.”

“Someone in Britain?”

They had spent the last 24 hours entirely in each other’s company, barely leaving his bed, let alone his apartment. They had chatted, eaten, and fucked _a lot_. She had learned about his life and the many similarities with her own; they both abandoned their families and education as young teenagers to come to the USA, promised a better life. Matt had been scouted by the Syndicate as a kid mastermind, their hopes for him to start up a daughter gang to dominate the cyber world. He had left a stable home, faking his own death in the UK to be free in America. As far as his parents knew, he was killed in a road traffic accident on the way to school.

For Lena, the story was slightly different. Her father had walked out, her mother not bothered if she was dead or alive. She was only 15 when a much-older boyfriend convinced her to follow him to the States. There she would find a great job, live in the lap of luxury and they would be together forever, he said. They were on a plane within days. Her mum didn’t notice, and Lena often wondered if she’d ever been declared missing, now a fading photo stuck to a noticeboard in a detective’s office. She was abandoned at the airport and found herself in Stilwater, before that fateful night she met Julius. The rest, as they say, was history.

She had been brutally honest about her childhood in the UK to the hacker, who would just lie next to her, elbow propping his head up, hanging on to her every word. Her didn’t judge her, and she loved that.

Talking about Johnny, for a myriad of reasons, was a step too far.

“Yeah. He died years ago,” Lena lied, staring up at the sky. “Sometimes I look at the stars and wonder if he’s there.”

Matt said nothing, instead hooking his arm over her shoulder. She rested her head against the soft linen of his shirt, taking a moment to cease thinking, to abandon her worries – there she was, wrapped in the embrace of a man she was meant to hate. He brought calm to the tempestuous waters eroding her mind. Killbane, Viola, _Johnny_ … None of that mattered right now.

“I’m going to take you out tomorrow.” He kissed the top of her head, burying his nose in her soft dark hair. The smell of her shampoo – floral bursts entwined with vanilla and jasmine – left his head at vertiginous heights. “I want to show you off.”

Lena sat up in surprise and laughed.

“You’ve gotta be kidding. That’s so cheesy!”

Although caught off-guard, she was secretly thrilled at the prospect. She was used to being ushered out of apartments before roommates noticed a notorious gang leader emerging from their friend’s bedroom.

He was _proud_ to be with her. She wasn’t sure why, but he was.

“I mean it!” Matt grinned, locking his arm round her neck and pulling her back into his chest. “Where do you fancy? I’m bored of keeping up with the Yanks - how about that pub on Bakers Street? It’s meant to be British, although I think it’s run by Columbians.”

_Shit._

The charming, adorably dorky genius she had been fucking wasn’t even old enough to buy alcohol.

“But aren’t you-”

“Too young? C’mon, do you not think the head of the Deckers can pull a few strings?”

Lena smiled at the thought of the hacker striding into a bar, pulling out the _don’t you know who I am?_ card. She had learned the _cocky little shit_ routine was a façade, hiding a sensitive, caring soul underneath. Like her, he had faced the need to grow up fast, creating a ruthless, hard-nosed front to mask the vulnerability.

That wasn’t really him. And truth be told, it wasn’t her either.

“In that case, it sounds great. Do you mind if I stay one more night? Promise I’ll go home tomorrow.”

She didn’t really have a choice; there were a limited number of excuses she could give Pierce and Kinzie for going AWOL.

Lena watched the neighboring skyscrapers, lights flickering on and off from the rooms within. Her mind trailed away as she pondered what else was happening in Steelport - workers battling fatigue with another late night at the office, families eating dinner and tucking their children into bed. Thousands of other people going about their daily lives, oblivious to the two young gang leaders sitting on the steps watching the world go by.

“Stay here as long as you like. I love having you around.”

She blushed when he slipped his hand into hers.

“You sure I won’t be cramping your style at the awesome raves you host?” Lena winked.

“Hilarious,” Matt scoffed. “Seriously, nothing happens up here. It’s not as if I’ve ever had crazy parties, with loads of booze and naked girls in my pool.”

Lena turned around and eyed up the swimming pool behind them. It was slightly larger than hers and was surrounded by wicker sun loungers, its serene waters reflecting the moonlight from above. The warm glow from the lamps illuminated the steps, forming a path – and an invitation - towards it.

Without saying a word, she stood up and approached the pool, discarding the scruffy, over-sized Decker shirt she had borrowed from Matt – the only item of clothing she was wearing. She held her breath and jumped in, hugging her knees to her chest as her body hit the water. Completely submerged, the pressure hit the back of her nose. She could hear the muffled sounds of the splash hitting the pool’s surrounding tiles and she rose to the surface, gasping for air. Her mascara was bleeding into her eyes and the water was fucking cold, but she pulled the hair from her face and laughed.

“There ya go: one naked girl in your pool!”

“Thanks, I guess,” he chuckled, walking towards her.

“Why don’t you join me?”

The waters gently lapped against her bare chest, and Matt watched longingly as small drops slowly trickled down her neck and between her breasts. He ached to touch her again.

“Fine.”

He removed his shirt but Lena shook her head.

“No way, Mr Miller – you’ve got to match me.”

He glanced down at his boxers and realized what she meant. “But… what if someone can see?”

“Who cares!” she laughed. “Now take them off or I’ll do it for you.”

Matt reluctantly wriggled his underwear past his knees and to his ankles, kicking them off in a random direction. He wasn’t exactly _used_ to feeling a breeze down there, but it was almost liberating. Almost.

Although desperate for the hacker to join her, Lena enjoyed the view as he tip-toed round the pool. For a guy that spends 25 hours of the day on his computer, he had surprisingly well defined arms and shoulders, with slim abs and narrow hips. She adored his small, firm ass and was adamant it looked even better under the stars – although that might have been the whisky talking.

Matt dipped his foot in the water, hissed and recoiled.

“Christ _almighty_ it’s chilly!”

Lena rolled her eyes. “We’re British – you can handle it.”

His gaze flitted between the beautiful naked woman and the freezing water she was wallowing in. After a few false starts he finally jumped in. The water slapped her face but she didn’t care; at least he was in now.

“Shit, bollocks, it’s fucking cold!” He wailed.

“Just come here!”

She hooked her arms round his neck and pulled him into her body, their lips crashing together. Matt’s hands slipped under the water and down her waist, tracing her curves and resting on her lower back, fingers caressing the soft skin of her derriere. He sucked on her bottom lip, his tongue met hers with greed. Lena groaned with delight, willingly accepting submission as he pressed his hips against hers, aggressively capturing her mouth with sharp, hot kisses that pulsated down her spine. She entwined her legs round his waist and he lifted her out the water, laying her on the tiles hidden between the sun loungers. Her skin was cool and wet, and he pushed his body against her own, their lips barely breaking apart.

Matt closed his eyes to allow his mouth to roam her body. Pulling slowly away from her lips, his tongue swept across her jaw and down her neck, gently nipping at her skin as she arched her back. He placed deliberate kisses on her chest, droplets of chlorinated water hitting his tongue, and he teased her nipple with his teeth. A smile erupted on Lena’s face as she watched him work her body, fine-tuning it to a hot, desperate state begging for more. The hungry licks and bites grazed her skin, and neither cared if he left a trail of blooming bruises in his wake.

Moving his mouth down, he eagerly kissed her navel, his hands lingering on her hips before finally prising her legs open. She shivered as his fingers danced around the soft skin of her thighs, moving slowly upwards before he’d pulled them away, starting again by her knees. The tension was agonizing, Lena curling her toes with despair as he continued to tease her.

“I want to hear you beg,” Matt whispered, his wet hair sticking to his face. He was wearing his cheeky, heart-stealing grin, the one that left Lena giddy.

“Please, _please_ ,” she panted.

“That wasn’t good enough.”

She propped herself up on her elbows, her eyes locking on his.

“Please, Matt, I’m begging you.”

Without breaking his gaze, he slowly ran his tongue up her hot, dripping folds. Lena felt her self-control snap; her breath hitched, her hips bucked towards him and she found herself shouting his name, fists clenched and desperate for something to grab on to. His tongue swirled around her clit as his fingers pried her entrance, sliding in and meeting the spot that made her whimper.

“How’s that?” He muttered between kissing her swollen lips. The warmth was a stark contrast to the coolness of her skin.

Lena bit her bottom lip and nodded in approval, eager to not unravel under his touch just yet.

Matt lapped up her wetness, continuing to insatiably lick away at the most sensitive part of her body. His other hand moved towards his groin, finally relieving the painfully hard cock he’d been trying to control. Being a teenage boy, he was extremely _au fait_ with his hand, and gradually started stroking the shaft as he listened to Lena’s euphoric moans.

He removed his fingers from her sex, sucking the tips to drink in her addictive, sweet flavor. He worked harder on his erection, his palm smearing precum over his head as he relished the feeling of his mouth against her folds, gently nibbling at the small bundle of nerves. Met with a cry of delight, Matt picked up the pace, his tongue relentless.

Lena couldn’t hold on any longer. She gripped his hair, keeping his lips firmly pressed against her. Sweat beaded on her chest as she threw herself off the cliff and into oblivion, coming hard and fast. Shockwaves coursed through her body, her vision plunged into darkness as Matt continued to ferociously kiss and lick her, each touch sending another bolt through her bones.

Breathless, Lena slumped down onto the tiles. She watched Matt kneel over her, furiously stroking his cock at the sight of her underneath him. He threw his head back and groaned at the waves of ecstasy occupying his abdomen, shooting the hot bursts of his climax onto her body. His knees buckled and he fell next to her, laying a long, soft kiss on her dry mouth.

“Sorry,” Matt panted, grimacing at her chest.

“You should be sorry. It was awful, having a guy take control, kiss me all over and make me come,” she elbowed him in the side, using a towel on the nearest sun lounger to wipe herself down. “Right now, I want to lie here and look at the stars.”

“Hey, now who’s the cheesy one?”

He moved closer to her and stared up at the sky. It was a beautiful, clear night, and he wondered why he’d never taken time out to look at the stars before.

“I actually know a bit of astronomy,” Matt said, hoping it would impress. Lena sat up and smiled.

“Go on then, tell me something.”

He slipped his arm round her shoulder and pulled her in tight.

“Right, see those three stars in a line? That’s called Orion’s belt…”


	8. Eight

Lena had always loved cats. She could vividly remember the one she’d had as child: a small tabby, clearly the runt of its litter, that found itself in her mother’s garden in search of food. It was a scrappy little thing, but the moment she picked him up she was in love. Sergeant Von Fluffington – as he came to be known - would paw at the back door when hungry, cold or lonely. One thing lead to another and before Lena’s mother could shout _fuck off you manky old thing_ , he was her best friend, sleeping on her bed every night. Although she didn’t appreciate the mangled mice he’d proudly leave on her pillow, they loved each other unequivocally. She never knew how old he was, but his health was evidently declining as she approached her teenage years. Lena saved the money from her paper round to take him to the vet’s, and her heart was shred to pieces when he had to be put to sleep. She cried for weeks, pining for the animal that understood her, the only thing she’d ever cared about.

She always said she’d get a kitten when she was older. Sergeant Von Fluffington Jr, in memory of her deceased friend.

Despite this, she wasn’t too thrilled about the cat Angel had placed in her car.

“It’s a fucking tiger!” Lena screamed down the phone wedged between her ear and shoulder. One hand was on the steering wheel, the other waving around a chunk of fish the wrestler had unhelpfully given her.

“And you thought Zimos’s jobs were strange.”

She could barely hear Oleg over the whistling of the wind, her hair whipping across her face and obstructing her vision. Flooring the gas and driving 80mph down the city streets wasn’t her cleverest idea but… You know… There’s a fucking _tiger_ in her car.

“Here kitty kitty…” she cooed. The Russian heard a roar followed by a scream.

“Is everything okay Helena...?”

“It just bit my fucking hand! Oh Christ Oleg!”

Her arms were covered with scratches, some bleeding. Granted, the animal was beautiful, but she’d rather be admiring it from a safer distance.

“When you’re done with… Wait, why has Angel put you up to this?”

“Because _apparently_ the only way to defeat Killbane is to drive a deadly, endangered creature through Steelport,” Lena shouted over the engine, swerving more cars and jumping red lights. “ _And_ there’s fur all over my leather seats.”

The tiger roared again, snapping its piercing canine teeth inches from her face.

“Anyway…” Oleg continued. “We haven’t seen you for a couple of days and Kinzie is extremely keen to talk to you. If you could head over to the HQ once you’re done with the vicious animal, we’d all be grateful.”

“She’s getting you to do her dirty work?”

“Not at all. I will be honest: at present, she is extremely annoyed.”

“Jeez, thanks for the heads up. I think I’d rather stay with the tiger.”

More car horns and profanities from fellow drivers as she fought to avoid the animal control vans hot on their tail. The tiger growled and Lena felt its icy blue eyes lock on her. Panicking at the prospect of being its lunch, she veered the steering wheel to the right, throwing the open-topped Justice down a side alley and knocking trash cans over like bowling pins. She ducked to avoid a stray flying cardboard box, which thankfully also missed the animal.

“So, you will be with us in the next few hours?”

“Yes, Oleg. But right now I’ve got a 600lb tiger in my passenger seat that I need to return to Angel, and that’s if Animal Control doesn’t catch us first.”

Lena ended the call and skidded round the corner, joining the freeway again. The Justice danced through the traffic between septic trucks, ambulances and Emus, the sworn enemy of her Russian friend. The smell of burning tyre filling her nostrils left her nauseated.

“H-how about we listen to some music?” she stuttered, almost certain the tiger could understand English.

She was met with static as she tried to find a radio station. The melodramatic, nasal voice of Jane Valderama was swiftly tuned out, before Lena’s ferocious turning of the dial found _The Lion Sleeps Tonight_.

“Much better than that snotty fake reporter. If I ever meet her, she’s getting a punch in the face.”

She noticed the tiger had stopped growling at her, and instead was resting its head on the car door, letting the wind glide through its orange fur. It _did_ look pretty soft – almost cuddly.

“Gooood kitty cat. Is this a song of your people? …Actually, do you live with lions? In the jungle or some shit?”

Clearly not. The tiger roared again, lurching forward to swipe at Lena’s face. She screamed and swerved the car into oncoming traffic, crashing through the already-dented gates that lead to Angel’s gym. Slamming on the brake, she scrunched her eyes shut – they were either going head-first into the side of the building, or that fucking animal was going to maul her to death.

Her seatbelt tightened as her body was thrown forwards. The air had been stripped from her lungs but at least the car had stopped inches from the brick wall. She slowly opened one eye and noticed the tiger had jumped out its seat, now getting belly rubs from Angel standing by the door.

“How was it?” He asked, voice monotonous as ever.

“You put a fucking _tiger_ in my car!”

Lena stumbled out the Justice, knees nearly buckling and causing her face to meet the concrete. Turns out that driving a dangerous animal around town was exhausting.

“I did it so you could learn a valuable lesson about both physical and emotional strength. I’m impressed that you managed to avoid Animal Control.”

“Yeah Angel, great fucking idea! What would you have done if I had died and tomorrow’s headline was _Leader of the Saints Eaten by Big Cat_?!”

“There’s no way Mittens would have harmed you.” The wrestler’s deadpan chuckle did nothing to quell Lena’s hysterics.

“Are you fucking _kidding_ me?! That _beast_ is called Mittens?!” She stopped in disbelief as the tiger rolled onto its back, playfully batting Angel’s hands away with its paws.

“I think you need to calm down. If you’d like, you can come and meet my llama. He’s much better behaved now he’s not spitting at visitors.”

Lena’s eyes widened with exasperation. She slowly backed away and towards the car, gaze not averted from the wild animal that had repeatedly tried to bite her.

“Angel, you’re mad. I’m going to go; please don’t let _Mittens_ follow me.”

“Don’t think I’m done with you; I still have many tasks that will prepare you for a final showdown against Eddie Pryor.”

He nodded to Lena who rolled her eyes. With haste she jumped back in the Justice and started the engine, keen to get as far away as possible from the wrestler and his tiger.

“That dude is so fucking weird,” she muttered under her breath.

***

Lena was eternally grateful to Shaundi for giving her the keys to her ex’s apartment. Yeah, it was fucking _grim_ , but it was their first Steelport crib after that Goddamn sexy hacker stole their money and left them stranded. Very occasionally the Boss would allow the Saints to wander round the grimy kitchen, swigging on out-of-date beer from the back of the moldy refrigerator. She’d sometimes find them roaming in the hallway, although it was often because they were blind drunk and couldn’t remember where they were. No one would _choose_ to hang around the apartment unless they were too fucked to navigate the stairs down to the sidewalk. Lena didn’t visit much anymore, unless she needed to escape Shaundi’s shrieking or Pierce’s singing.

Grappling with the half-broken key, she forced the door open and was met with the familiar stench of sweat, cigarettes and despair. She threw her bag onto the floor and noticed the flickering, migraine-inducing kitchen light – she’d probably try to sweet talk another Saint into changing that for her. The last couple of nights had been spent at Matt’s doing nothing in particular, but it had been _awesome_ ; they could chat, fuck, sit in silence, do _anything_ , because it was never awkward. And considering she was the leader of the Saints dressed as a Decker, that was an impressive feat.

A rustle echoed from the bedroom. Confused, Lena peered round the doorway and jumped.

“Jesus _Christ_ Kinzie, how the fuck did you get in?”

_So much for a quiet evening._

The ex-FBI agent was sat cross-legged on the filthy mattress, computer glued to her lap as per usual. She glanced up at the Boss, her glasses reflecting the screen, but didn’t reply.

“I, er, can’t remember giving you a key,” Lena mumbled, feeling increasingly uneasy about Kensington’s silence.

“I can get into anywhere if I put my mind to it.” Kinzie’s words were deliberate, almost rehearsed. She didn’t budge, still sitting stony-faced as her boss nervously moved round the room to perch on the desk chair.

“Well, you don’t need me to say how clever you are,” Lena chuckled half-heartedly, to no response from her lieutenant. “Anyway… What have you been up to?”

“I was going to ask you the same question.”

The snapped response caused Lena to falter.

“…I’ve been doing stuff. Angel put a fucking tiger in my car.”

“But we haven’t seen you for days,” Kinzie barked. The Boss wished she’d revert back to silence. “You’ve been avoiding me for weeks, Pierce and Shaundi have only seen you fleetingly and that was _before_ you went AWOL just before the weekend. Where have you been?”

“I’ve been getting my shit together. Is that okay with you?”

Annoyed at the line of questioning, Lena rummaged through the one-doored wardrobe. _Now_ was the time for a magical portal to open among the jackets and dresses. She slid the coat hangers along the railing, the scratching noise replacing the room’s awkward silence. Kensington’s glare was burning a hole into her back as she searched for a random item of clothing – any garment she could use to exclaim _I’ve found it!_ then rush out the apartment.

“I hacked into Miller’s computer remotely.”

“Huh?” Lena removed her head from among the dozens of coats.

“Those files I needed. Remember, the whole reason you were meeting up with him? Or had you forgotten...?”

Kinzie narrowed her eyes and the Boss felt a surge of panic course her veins.

“Matt Miller? _Oh yeah_ … I’m glad you’ve got that sorted. I had _completely_ forgotten ***** to be honest,” she chuckled, diving back in the clothing as she felt her face redden.

More silence, more rifling through pants and shirts.

“Interesting,” Kinzie mused, eyes still fixed on the figure buried head-first in the wardrobe. “Aren’t you gonna miss seeing him? You two got on really well.”

“Did I say that?” Lena’s voice started to crack. “He’s okay, I guess. Just a massive keyboard warrior.”

She continued to flick frantically through the clothes, desperate to move out of Kensington’s spotlight. The room fell quiet again as she came across a leather jacket adorned with the _fleur-de-Saints_ , which she had genuinely thought she’d lost. She turned around and held it up proudly, the purple trim almost shimmering under the lights.

“Hey, look what I’ve-”

“So you’re not going to miss fucking him?”

Lena dropped the jacket in horror, her guise withering under Kinzie’s stare. Her blood turned to ice as the realization sank in.

“You… You… What?”

“Don’t play dumb with me!” Kinzie stood up, stepping towards her boss, her voice laced with fury. “I bugged his apartment to get some dirt on him. You have _no_ idea how humiliating it was to see you two… Oh God.” She put her hand to her mouth, as if finishing her sentence would make her sick.

“You saw us?” Lena felt her stomach twist into knots.

“You remember how he took all your money when you first landed in Steelport?”

“Yeah, but-”

“Remember how you had to rescue me from a yacht guarded by his minions, who had me _tied up_ and were ready to kill me?”

“Kinzie please, it’s not like that,” Lena begged, tears starting to burn her eyes. The lieutenant’s anger had now spilled over and she was inches from her boss’s face.

“You’re putting us all in danger; you’re _literally_ sleeping with the enemy. How could you be so selfish?”

“I promise, I wouldn’t-”

“Remember when Johnny was _murdered_ by your lover-boy’s cronies?”

Before she could control herself, her hand flew round and struck Kinzie across the face. The agent fell to the floor, her glasses crashing against the wall and shattering. Lena froze in disbelief; Kinzie’s words had cut through her core, the aftershocks manifesting as blinding, white-hot rage.

“Don’t you _dare_ bring Johnny up!” she spat, standing over the lieutenant. Her voice was shaking, her hand throbbing. “I’m sorry for all of this, okay? If I could turn the clocks back and not fall for that stupid fucking nerd, I would. But Johnny does _not_ deserve to be dragged into this sorry mess.”

Kinzie looked up at her boss, her anger now washed away by confusion.

“You’ve… You’ve fallen for him?”

“I’m _not_ having this stupid fucking conversation now!”

Lena charged out the room and through the kitchen, slamming the apartment door behind her. She collapsed on the stairs, burying her head in her knees to muffle the irrepressible sobs and gasps of air, tears rolling down her cheeks and falling onto the denim of her pants. She dug her nails into the flesh of her shoulders, drawing blood; the sting was a welcome distraction from the dry burn occupying her throat.

In a fit of rage, she had just slapped one of her fiercest allies. She didn’t expect Kinzie to understand, let alone forgive her… But she needed to cool-off and work at repairing their relationship.

Hell, Lena saw her as a friend - a friend whose enemy she was sleeping with. If this was the beginning of a rift among the Saints… Was it _really_ worth it?

She checked her cell-phone and the screen lit up with a new message.

_Come over later. I miss you._

 

 

 

*Although Lena hadn’t really forgotten the original reason for the undercover task, the author had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :(


End file.
